Begin Anew
by Only a Stranger
Summary: An amnesiac Dark Fairy awakens in the Wizard City Hedge Maze. Her grand adventure kicks off immediately with an attack by a new enemy. Watch as our plucky yet COMPLETELY unprepared heroine makes new friends and takes on the forces of kinda-sorta evil, all the while trying to find out who she used to be. Rated T for some language and violence, and other stuff later.
1. Awakening

_Affable: Hello everyone, I am the Affable Stranger, and this is my friend, Rattles. Say hi, Rattles!_

 _Rattles:_ Help me! For the love of all that is sacred, help-

 _Affable: That's nice, Rattles. Anyways, some explanation is in order. This is the first chapter of my first ever FanFiction, so let me get this over with now. *Ahem* The following is a FanFiction. Wizard101, as well as Pirate101, are owned by Kingsisle Entertainment. Please support the official release. Or don't, I don't really care. Anything else to add, Rattles?_

 _Rattles:_ I'm being kept here on a leash!

 _Affable: And with that, let's begin! Enjoy!_

* * *

Chapter One: Awakened

 _For a moment, only darkness reigned. Shadows drifted by, slowly at first, then swooping across a swath of red, agitated by a sudden, irritating cackle: "HAHAHAHAHA! Not this time! Now you will…"_

 _The shadows began to race about madly, dipping in and out of sight as the voice faded away, only to pick back up a few seconds later, somehow even more irritating than before, being joined by some sort of rattling sound. "Yes! YES! Success! This World will be mine! I will be—" Sudden, hideous pain erupted, even as the voice began to shriek in dismay and terror._

 _"_ _W-what!? NOOO! This can't be! How could this've happened? I did everything right… W-wait! What are you doing!? Stay back! Back I tell you! AIEEEEEEEEEEE!" The shadows began to tear themselves apart, as the screech was forcibly cut off with a sickening_ CRACK _. The redness began to flicker, alternating from bloody crimson to pitch-black. Finally—_

 _I_ **woke**.

I blinked slowly, and then got to my knees. _Urrrg, my head,_ was my first thought. My second was _Wait. Where am I?_ I managed to clamber to my feet, fighting off a wave of nausea. I kept my eyes focused on the far wall of the structure I was in, waiting for it to pass; structure because… I wasn't entirely sure where I was. Detailed friezes of Fae creatures covered the dome-topped walls, while lush grasses carpeted the ground. Long rows of bushes as tall as my head wound through the area, with small spaces between them at irregular intervals for passage. It looked like an indoor… "Hedge Maze" _._ The name drifted out of my subconscious and easily sprang off of my tongue. I stood stock still as I came to a realization: "I… I know this place! But… I can't remember _how_ , though." _In fact… I can't remember anything._

A cold, empty feeling washed over me. My breath caught in my chest, even as I fell to my hands and knees. I sat there for a long time, staring at the grass. I thought back, trying to find anything about who I was and how I got here. But the earliest thing I could remember was the dream, and before that, nothing. _Absolutely nothing._ Anger, roiling hot, rose in me out of nowhere. Flickers of red began to dart across my vision, as the grass underneath me began to smolder. Acrid smoke tickled my nose, alerting me to the small fire that sprung up around me. Quashing my rage with an unprecedented amount of effort, I batted down the flames, wincing at the sting. I stared forlornly at the burned patches, marring the earthly beauty of the Maze. "How did I… do that?"

I shook my head. _Come on, you know you can't answer that_ , I told myself, exasperated. _There has to be someone who can help you here. They can lead you out of this place; maybe they can direct you to someone who can help you with this. All you have to do is find them._

I began to walk through the maze, picking my way through the hedges, the reassuring earthy scent in the air ironing out my nerves. Trouble, however, was literally around the corner in the form of a… Fairy? _No, she's a Sprite. Her tunic is brown._ Of course, this dropped a landslide of new questions onto my head, some of the biggest being: _How do I know that? Fairies aren't even real—wait. Of course they're real. How could they not be if I … if I… what, exactly? What is happening!?_

At this point in my lament, the sprite finally noticed me staring at her. Her reaction was immediate, and unnerving. Her eyes went wide with terror, and a shriek tore itself free from her mouth, even as she dropped a basin of water I didn't notice until now. I jumped back, stunned and more than a little disconcerted. I reached my hand out to her, trying to calm her down. _Bad idea_ , I thought, as she went completely silent, petrified at the sight of my hand only a few inches away from her. I was blind to her plight, though, as I was completely taken in by the sight of my arm. Slender and well proportioned in regards to the rest of my body, with smooth, unblemished skin, it was nevertheless _wrong_ somehow. I didn't even notice the sprite darting off as fast as she could, shouting something in her high-pitched voice that I couldn't be bothered to dissemble. There was something wrong with my body: specifically, the fact that _it wasn't my body_. My skin was a silvery gray color, and cast a faint glow. My fingers were long and delicate-looking, with short, sharp black nails. I was wearing purple knee-high boots with the toes curled upwards, like a jester's. My tunic was the same shade of purple with a red trim, and seemed to be made of… leaves, layered over each other to provide some protection. My vision drifted upwards, to rest on the puddle of water the sprite left. I walked over and looked at my reflection, dreading what I would find. What I found, while not surprising, was certainly upsetting. The first things that caught my eye were, in fact, my eyes; large orbs with dull, washed-out red pupils and cat-like pupils that only served to make my already pale face look almost ill. My ears were pointed, but seemed to be proportionate to the rest of my face. Together with a button nose, small, pearly teeth, rather pert lips, and raven hair in a bun, I made a rather pretty Dark Fairy. However, that couldn't really distract me from the main issue: the fact that it _definitely_ wasn't my body. I had no memory to speak of, but I somehow knew that whatever I was, this wasn't it. I pulled away from the puddle, eager to find someone who could tell me something before I went crazy.

But for some reason, something about my reflection didn't rub me the right way. I went back to my reflection, trying to find out what was wrong. Suddenly, I saw the problem: If I was a Dark Fairy, where were my wings? Turning slightly, I caught a glance of my wings, folded up against my back, gossamer constructs of scarlet and jet. With some effort, I unfolded them, the alien feeling of foreign limbs making me feel slightly giddy. Focusing hard, I began to flap—well, flutter—my wings. Within moments, I was hovering a few inches off the ground. Now airborne, and going much quicker than before, I followed the path the sprite took, going towards the center of the Hedge Maze, to find someone in charge.

 _Not to mention I need to show everyone here that I'm not a threat._ That part nearly slipped my mind. A Dark Fairy in the Hedge Maze? There would be a riot, to say the least. Dark Fairies were almost always causing trouble, attacking Unicorn Way's residents and commandeering their homes for their various factions, or else beating up beginning Wizards when they attempted to put down a new problem on the Way. _Holdup, if all Dark Fairies are like that, then how come I'm not? At least, I'm pretty sure I'm not._ Either way, if I didn't explain myself quickly, there'd be a small army on my ass within the hour.

I halted for a second and scratched my head. "Ok, so I can't actually remember anything about _myself_ , but I can remember information? How does that even work?" _Hell, is that even what's happening right now?_

So I looked back, not focusing on memories like I had before, but just looking for what I knew. _I know I'm in the Hedge Maze in Unicorn Way, and I know_ that's _in Wizard City, the center of the Spiral, the collection of Worlds made up of fragments of the First World, torn apart by ancient titans eons ago, etcetera, etcetera. I know what Fairies (and Co.) are, all the names of the streets and the types of monsters in them, and the name of the school at the top of the World. I also know that there are other Worlds, though I only know the name of one of them, Krokotopia, and even then I don't know anything about it. And…yeah, that's all that's relevant for now._ It was as I expected earlier: I knew all of these things as well as the back of my hand… actually, considerably better than the back of my hand. However, I had no memory of actually being in any of those places, or of any actual people. The information was there, but the context—

" _PPPPLLLBBBBBBBBBBBBBBTT."_ My raspberry bounced off the walls, ringing out across the Maze. I continued flying, irritated by my increasingly convoluted issues, until I turned a corner into a short path that led to the center of the maze. I saw dozens of Fairies, Pixies, and Sprites flying erratically around a glowing sculpture of an angel with a sword in the middle of the clearing; apparently, the Sprite told the others about their visitor. Beyond the cloud of swirling greens and browns, I saw a set of double doors, most likely leading outside. I didn't see anyone even trying to lead the various Fae, so that particular plan was a bust; so my next course of action would be to go to Ravenwood School's Headmaster in order to find a solution.

…The how would be tricky though. A Dark Fairy rolling into the Wizard City Commons, intent on entering the Headmaster's house? A Doomsday scenario would be the most likely end to that mess, and there was no way I was going to sneak past the crowds of students. I supposed I could convince a wizard that I was friendly, and wanted to travel with them. I could slip away when we got near the Headmaster's place. First though, I had to get through this fiasco. I cracked my knuckles, readying myself for a fight; I wasn't sure if the fairies would turn violent when in large enough groups, but I definitely wasn't going to stick around to find out. I rushed out immediately, aiming for the right of the statue, sending fairies left and right tearing off into the maze, shouting a word I couldn't make out in my haste. I just got to the stairs in front of the doors when a hidden worst-case scenario made itself known: a sudden explosion threw me back, until I hit the ground at the feet of the statue; the statue that, I now saw, wasn't a statue at all, but rather _an_ _actual angel_.

She was otherworldly beautiful, with vibrant blonde hair with a gold tiara nestled in it, a proud, sun-kissed face, and enormous sapphire eyes. She wore a white robe with a golden cord wrapped around the waist, as well as a thunderstruck expression on her face; clearly, she blasted me by reflex. I picked myself off of the ground with some difficulty. Holding my hands up in peace, I looked the angel in the eyes, marveling at how dense I was to not realize what she was the moment I got into the clearing; the power emanating from her was incredible, itching at the back of my mind like a sixth sense. The angel seemed to look into me, judging if I was a threat. After a few seconds, she smiled kindly and said to me in a clear, gentle voice, "Peace, little one, you have nothing to fear from me. I am Lady Oriel, the protector of the Hedge Maze. What is your name, and how did you come to be here?"

* * *

 _And that's the first chapter of_ Begin Anew _!_ _So review if you want. Or don't, that's fine too! If you'll excuse me, I have to find Rattles. He always slips away so suddenly when I'm occupied. Til later._


	2. An Ally

(EDIT: The first upload was totally ridiculous for some reason. It's fixed now, so please don't think badly of me! ^_^;)

 _Affable: Sup wassup, everyone, It's chapter two! Also, I finally found Rattles. Turns out he was trapped in the closet I keep odd doodads in. He had to have been trapped there for days; the moment I opened the door he started freaking out and swinging his old sword like a madman. It's a good thing I got it away from him, or he could've really hurt himself!_

 _Rattles_ : I wasn't "freaking out", you imbecile! I was actually trying to kill you! God, how did I get captured by someone whose IQ can be measured in jam!? Whatever, just start the damn chapter...

* * *

Chapter 2: An Ally

I almost passed out with relief; finally, someone who didn't see me as a threat! Granted, I was a bit hung up on my own problems to be particularly bothered by that, but now that I had someone on my side, I had to say, it was a sweet feeling. I told the Lady the whole story, minus the grass burning incident: the dream, the amnesia, the… body issues. The dream was of particular interest to her, and she kept pressing me for every minute detail, mostly about the annoying voice I heard talking. After I finished, the Lady contemplated for a moment, turning away from me, setting her gaze at the stained-glass dome above us. The clearing, quiet before, was nearly silent under the weight of solemnity filling the air. Finally, still with her back to me, she said, "For decades, I have watched over the Hedge Maze, standing between the evils of this World and the Fairies and Sprites that call this place home. In recent times, however, my task has become… complicated. Some years ago, a powerful Wizard set himself against this World, possibly all Worlds, and is even now out there in the Spiral, plotting his next move, from what visitors tell me. However, what concerns us now is an event that transpired at the beginning of this trial: the creation of the Dark Fairies.

"The Wizard (whose name I shall not speak in this sacred place) began his dark designs here on Unicorn Way. He recruited an undead vagabond to his cause (which I do not know, but can only assume is of a Spiral-ruling nature), and taught it certain rituals of the Death Arts, and instructions to wreak havoc on the Way. This was part of his scheme to destroy Wizard City from within with threats on every street, while He continued his work on another World entirely. The underling, a Skeleton by the name of Rattlebones, used his new skills to create cages of bone and iron, enchanted to… _warp_ their prisoner in very specific ways. The intended targets, unfortunately, were the fairies of this Maze. By ones and twos, he stole them, trapping them in the bone cages hung along the Way like lanterns, while the cages' foul magic changed them from the inside out. They became more mischievous, prone to anger, even violent. They attacked all the fair people of Unicorn Way, doing far more damage than even the Skeletal Pirates created by Lady Blackhope (I may never know why she created the Pirates, seeing as she was never in the employ of the renegade Wizard, and indeed was creating her hordes well before his defection; but it matters not, for she has passed on years ago).

"And then came the day when a young Wizard entered this Maze to gain an understanding of the horrors plaguing it. With my aid and guidance, he destroyed the Cages, as well as their creator, saving Unicorn Way, and paving the way for the liberation of Wizard City as a whole. For this, I am grateful to him, wherever he may be now. But unfortunately, those brave actions proved to be a temporary measure."

She turned to me with an unreadable expression on her face. "You have a question for me." It wasn't a question.

"…Well, yes. If I may be so bold, my Lady, why didn't you face Rattlebones yourself? You seem more than capable." I instantly regretted the question, as Oriel's face became indescribably sad. She noticed my shock, and smiled weakly to reassure me.

"Looks can be deceiving, little one," she replied, pointing her sword downwards. I looked at the ground, and saw a carved circle of various runes and wards. I couldn't begin to decipher the meaning of the symbols themselves, but the purpose of the circle itself was immediately clear. Lady Oriel's next words confirmed it: "It is by the magic of this circle that I am in this realm at all, but unfortunately, it also binds me to this spot. All of my power, meaningless outside of the Hedge Maze. But that, in and of itself, is unimportant. What _is_ important, however, is that you understand what happened next."

She closed her eyes, appearing to gird herself for what she was about to say. "Until roughly a year ago, Unicorn way was in a sort of stalemate with the Dark Fairies. Divided into factions as they were, they didn't have the forces to mount especially threatening raids on anyone's homes, but they were still large enough in number to make routing them from their bases too dangerous to be considered. Several talks I had with Sergeant Muldoon informed me that their antics usually consisted of petty thievery and swindling; overall, (relatively) harmless pranks that, for some, were rather endearing. There was a peace of sorts, and anyone would tell you that that was preferable to Unicorn Way's former state of panic. And then Rattlebones reared his head again.

"From what I've gathered, the Wizard, while managing to destroy Rattlebones's body, did not realize the extensiveness of the skeleton's… education. Using those arts, he managed to remake his body using the remains of fallen undead pirates. From there, he moved his operation underground, to Wizard City's sewer system, where he continued to experiment on any test subject he could get his hands on. Apparently, he was a rare talent, as evidenced by his earliest forces: the Shadows, an army of frighteningly strong ghosts, whose sole mission was the capture of any and all living things to fuel Rattlebones's experiments. Many of the abductees were the very Dark Fairies he created. And with them, he created our biggest adversary to date: the Fir Darrig.

"Where the original Dark Fairies limited themselves to theft and vandalism (and home invasion), the Fir Darrig are a brutal, martial breed, violently routing most of the inhabitants of Unicorn Way, human, Undead, and Dark Fairy alike. Almost nothing is known about them, seeing as they prefer to answer questions with fireballs. Even now, there is much fear amongst my charges that the Fir Darrig may attempt to storm our home. That is why they flew into such a panic when they learned of your presence here.

"Which leads me to the topic of most concern for you, I think: your memory. Unfortunately, there is no way for me to restore your memories. Your predicament is completely new to me, you see. Up until now, Dark Fairies, while exhibiting many personality changes, always remembered who they were. As for the Fir Darrig, I have no way to know, given what I said about them before. And seeing that, for the main, your characteristics are in line with the Dark Fairy phenotype, with the exception of your wings, I can bet towards the former. As a result, I can only assume that this came about as a result of trauma dealt after your transformation."

That left me confused. "But when I woke up, I didn't know I was a Dark Fairy until I saw my hand. Plus, I don't really _act_ like a normal Dark Fairy, you know?"

Oriel drifted back and forth, thinking. The silence was broken by the sound of many wings fluttering, as the fairies cautiously returned to the clearing, only returning when they all gathered and landed in a circle around Lady Oriel and myself. I noticed that even the biggest of them barely stood up to my shoulder. I smiled in an attempt to reassure them, only to have a few shrieks rise up from the more timid ones. Lady Oriel looked up at this, and focused her eyes on me.

"I can only guess that whatever made you lose your memory also caused the shift in your personality," she said, "Either way, as to what you should do now, I can only make suggestions, and not strong ones. If you were to make your way over to—"

She was cut off, as a distant rumble rolled over us. It rang throughout the Maze for nearly a minute before subsiding. In shock, we all looked up at the stained-glass dome. There wasn't a cloud in sight. _No storm, then. So what-_

 _ **CRASH!**_ A large metal ball smashed through the doors, sending wood and iron shards flying through the air. It flew through the air for a few seconds, before crashing a dozen yards east of the clearing with a _clang_. We all stared at its general direction, dumbstruck. Finally, one of the fairies piped up, "What… was that?" Another denizen scowled at her.

"Are you kidding me? Do you seriously not know what's in that thing?"

That snapped me out of it. "Hold on, _in_ that thing? You mean that ball is hollow? How do you figure?"

The Fairy turned pale, and only managed a squeak when she tried to answer me. _Seriously, I was like_ this _before I transformed? I'm pretty damn glad, then, that I'm a Dark Fairy. Still, I had to be doing something_ prett _y wild to lose my memory if the Lady is right. Anyways, have to deal with this one._ The Fairy sounded like she was swallowing and talking at the same time. _Honestly, now I just feel bad, and I didn't even do anything. It's pretty funny, though._ Couldn't let her flounder forever, sadly; I had questions that needed answering. "Hey!"

That got through to her, thankfully. She stood at attention and answered, "Y-yes?"

"What's your name?"

"M-my name? I-it's Chrome, Miss."

 _Chrome?_ "Okay, Chrome, what did you mean before? Did you mean the ball is hollow?"

Chrome took a deep breath before continuing, "Well, the b-ball hit the ground over there with a clear, s-sort of _clang_ sound. If it were just a big c-cannonball, it would've made a duller, thumping sound against t-the stone."

"Okay… so what's in that thing?"

Chrome opened her mouth to answer me, only to be beaten to the punch by a voice just _filled_ with mock surprise exclaiming, "Why, us, of course!"

We all turned to the source of the voice, a figure in a red trench coat standing at the head of a small group of assorted monsters. He looked… different. He was around my height, if maybe an inch or so taller, but he wasn't any fairy I'd ever seen before. For one thing, he was wingless, and for another, he was armed with a dagger that, in his hands, looked more like a broadsword. His blonde hair was carefully gelled into spikes. His eyes were a violent shade of pink, and he had a small, triangular gemstone of the same color set in one of his incisors; knew that last bit because his cheeky ass grin put it on full display. In short, he looked like a complete tool.

Still grinning, he motioned to the group of monsters behind him and said, "Yo! We're the Fir Darrig, and this is our turf now!"


	3. Some Unwelcome Guests

_Rattles:_ So... the other one's been gone for a while now. I don't know where he went, but I say good riddance for now. I don't know if he's a germaphobe or a masochist, but he wears a gas mask and hood everywhere. I have no idea what he looks like, and honestly? I'm pretty sure I don't want to. Anyways, this disaster. I spent the better part of two days deciphering his chickenscratch from the stained atlas pages he wrote his first draft on and when that was done, editing it. He was _supposed_ to do it himself like he usually does, and leave it with me to upload it while he was gone. But I guess the call of picking flowers along the highway was too much for him. So... enjoy.

* * *

For nearly a minute, we all stood there, completely motionless. I stood somewhat apart from either group, so I used the moment to gauge everyone's reactions. The Fairies were completely stunned, with the exception of the oddly named Chrome, who was glaring fiercely at the intruders, though she looked ready to faint. Amazingly, she seemed ready to fight the invaders. I caught her eye and jerked my head towards Lady Oriel, signaling Chrome to get behind her. As for Oriel, her shock at the Fir Darrig's entrance was quickly giving way to anger. Waves of force rolled off of her, nearly flattening everyone close. The fairies, sensing the danger, flew into the Maze again, except for Chrome, who ducked behind _me_ for some reason. Pushing my annoyance and worry back, I focused on the Fir Darrig. All I knew about them was that they were a type of Fairy, and really, only their leader seemed to fit the bill. The other members were a Leprechaun, a Scarecrow without a crow, a Fire Elf, a Ghoul, and, of all things, a jittery looking bunny in fatigues. They all seemed like pretty typical monsters, too (well, except for the bunny); the only things that popped out at me were the red scarves they all had around their upper arm, and the aura of supreme confidence they exuded.

I looked at Oriel again and instantly regretted it, as she let loose a flare of magical energy directly at the Fir Darrig. The resulting explosion blew me into Chrome, knocking us down. After a few seconds, we got up and dusted ourselves off. Rubbing the spots out of my eyes, I quipped, "Somebody get a mop, 'cause those guys just got— um… er… well, hell." Chrome peered into the smoke in confusion. "What do you mean-" The smoke cleared fully, revealing a completely unharmed, and infuriatingly smug, Fir Darrig. She managed a small _Oh_ and looked back at me. "Did Lady Oriel miss?"

I shook my head. "It was a point blank shot," I whispered. "These guys must have something that cancels out her attacks. And, seeing as Oriel's the first, last, and only line of defense here, this means that you would all be in a heap of shit, and that's putting it lightly."

"Language. Also, what do mean, "would"? We're in a heap of, um, poop, no matter how you slice it."

"As in, you all would be in a heap of, _ahem_ , poop, if _I_ weren't here. I'll clear 'em out, no problem. Just back me up if things get hairy."

By the look on her face, I could tell she thought this was a terrible idea, but I didn't really care. I focused on the leader of the pack, the guy in red. He grinned up at Oriel, keeping out of reach of her sword, which was still lethal. "I am Marcas," he began, "of the Fir Darrig, and these are my merry men." The Scarecrow made a sound of indignation. "And women," he amended, rolling his eyes. "In order, they are: Dean the Leprechaun, my second in command; Carbuncle the Fire Elf, my scout; Anathema the Scarecrow, my enforcer, along with Cracker-" he paused as a crow flew in through the hole the doors used to be. Circling above us for a few seconds, it gently swooped down, perched on Anathema's post, and cawed. Marcas continued, "Along with Cracker, her crow. Abraxus the Ghoul deals with communications," here, Abraxus tipped his hat and made a mocking bow, "and bringing up the rear is… is… hold on, did anyone get his name?" A chorus of "No's" (and a choking growl from Abraxus) greeted him. Chrome and I shared an incredulous look as Marcas turned his full attention onto the hyperventilating bunny. "Okay," he said cordially, "we appear to be in the middle of an _embarrassing_ oversight, so to clear things up quickly so we can return to the matter at hand: who the shit are you?" The bunny gulped and said, "M-my name's Phil, um, I'm from Wysteria, and uh, I super didn't sign up for this! N-no one told me that we were gonna, uh, gonna get in a giant cannonball and get thrown into some building an-an-and take it over! Like, why? Why're we even doin' this? What does this even do for us? I-I don't even-"

"Okay, so Phil, the new guy," Marcas cut in, leaving Phil stammering lamely. "He does, I don't know, repairs or whatever. We're the Fir Darrig, and _you're_ unable to stop us from A) breaking in, and B) taking over. Same goes to you, kid," he said, turning to me. "So beat it, and take the rest of the fairies with you."

At this, Oriel unleashed a flurry of slashes with her sword, punctuated with beams of energy. Marcas wasn't close enough for the swings to connect, but all the blasts hit their mark… only for said mark to snicker when they dissipated upon impact.

"Come on, seriously? All that did was kick up some dust." He took a moment to straighten his coat, and continued, "But I gotta say, that's gonna get old _really_ fast. So-" he turned to his team, "Annie, Dean, wreck the circle!"

 _Holy spider balls._ The two were got into position on opposite sides of Lady Oriel, only to be blown back into the maze by a furious pump of her wings. Her face was a mask; she seemed overcome with rage at the sight of the Fir Darrig attempting to break her seal, not to mention trying to banish her fairies. She raised her wings high, creating a whirlwind with her vast store of power. Everyone fought to keep their footing, with varying amounts of success; Marcas and I were pushed back "only" several feet, while the Ghoul, Abraxus, was barely hanging on, having dug his claws into the ground, and Phil was nearly blown right back outside. Chrome was simultaneously hanging onto my waist to prevent getting flung away by the whirlwind, and trying to pull me away from Oriel. Fighting to make herself heard over the wind, she screamed, "Don't get so close! You can't help right now! You're just going to get hurt!"

Oriel saw this, and winced; she had lost control in her anger. Closing her eyes for a moment, she reigned in her rage, and her power, killing the storm. She opened her eyes to address me. "Little one," she started, "I cannot expunge my Maze of these intruders. I fear I must ask you for your aid in getting rid of them. We can continue our discussion afterwards." She turned toward Marcas, who flinched under her gaze. Her voice had an undercurrent of steel as she spoke to him. "For you, Intruder, there are two choices. The first is that you collect your followers, retrieve your cannonball, and leave this place immediately. Do this, and I promise you that no retribution will be sought by any affiliated with me for the damage you have already caused."

Marcas snorted in derision. "All the work we did to get this far, for the privilege of being turned away at the door? No thank you. What's your other offer?" Without missing a beat, Oriel continued.

"The second choice is that you continue your conquest of the Hedge Maze. In the process, you shall either banish or kill me, and expel the Fae that call this place home, making them easy prey for Rattlebones, your creator. Do this, and I will _ensure_ that you will regret that decision forever."

Marcas just looked annoyed at this. He took in a huge breath of air, held it for a few seconds, and let it out. He repeated this several times: breathe in, hold, breathe out. _What the crap is this, now? What's his game? Is there even a point to this? Why isn't he_ doing _anythi—_

"Fine then."

Oriel blinked. "W…what?"

 _What?_

"Fine then," Marcas repeated. "We'll leave. For now, anyways. HEY, GUYS!" The Scarecrow and the Leprechaun (Anathema and Dean, I think) came out of the maze immediately, and Abraxus and Phil picked themselves up. "FORM UP!" The Fir Darrig gathered behind him in a loose mob, whispering to each other until he flashed a withering glare at them.

He turned back to Oriel, arms akimbo. "Okay then, Debbie Downer, we're going. Don't try anything funny." _Something's up!_ I knew I was right when his eyes flashed. " _Like this!_ "

Anathema was at the circle again almost instantly. Oriel, shocked, was too slow to stop her from shooting a small, red-topped metal dart from her mouth into the ground the circle was carved in. The topper began to blink, signaling its imminent detonation. She was out of Oriel's sword's range just as quickly, gracefully avoiding being cleaved in two with a cackle. The topper let out a shrill whirr; Oriel moved to grab it, only for Dean to pull out a small device from his pocket and press the big red button. The dart emitted several pulses of energy, pumping wave after wave of electricity through Oriel, using her sword as a makeshift lightning rod. The smell of burning feathers filled the air, as her rigid form twisted in agony, A few seconds later, the pulses died out, and Oriel crumpled to the ground, letting loose her smoking sword. More than anything, I wanted to make sure she was okay, but the dart, still blinking, was the biggest issue. I flew forward, snapped the topper off, and threw it into the air. The explosion wasn't especially large, but the wave of force slammed everyone to the ground again. Being the closest, I got the worst of it; I could feel my ears bleeding, and nearly a minute had passed before my vision straightened enough to make anything out. I felt like someone drove a pick into my skull, and the rest of my body didn't fare much better. My ribs were most likely broken, and so were one of my arms. I rolled over onto my back, nearly blacking out in the process. Gulping down air, my attention was drawn to Marcas as he got up.

Noticing me staring at him, he swore and said, "You! I was willing to let you go, kid, but had to go and play the hero!" He picked up his sword and pointed it at me. "This time," he continued, "you're gonna be put down for a nap before the grownups continue their talk!" He took a step back, and leapt upwards, clearing the dozen or so feet between us with ease. When he was directly above me, he began to fall, pointing his sword downwards, where I was still lying. I tried to get up, only to collapse with a strangled cry of pain; my entire body was on fire. I could only lie there and watch as my death plummeted toward me… only to be caught by Oriel with barely three feet to go.

Her skin had a gray cast to it, and her hair was limp and dark with sweat. Smoke rose from her sword hand, the electricity having made a severe burn. She was taking deep, shuddering breaths; she was in really bad shape. However, her eyes were clear, and filled with a rage so intense that Marcas started to quake in terror, and redoubled his efforts to wriggle out of her grasp. Slowly, she lifted him so their eyes were level with each other, and began to chant in a language I didn't know:

מאי כל אבן, נהר, עץ, וחיה בעלייה זה העולם נגדך. ייתכן שכל צעד שאתה לוקח לקרב אותך" "לטמיון וחורבן.ועלול בסופו שלך להיות מובא על ידי אלה שאכפת לך עבור רוב.

Finished, she threw him away from her and fell again, even more drained than before. Chrome darted up to her silently. _Huh,_ I thought absently, _I thought there'd be more screaming. No, that's… that's mean… I shouldn't say... that..._ Everything was getting oddly fuzzy… I felt like my head was stuffed with cotton, and I was comfortably warm… the pain was drifting away; it was still there, but I was somewhat removed from it… _so sleepy all of a sudden… I can close my eyes for a few seconds, right? Right…_

I felt myself drifting away ever so slowly… as if I was on floating on air… vaguely, I could register someone's voice calling my name… it soon faded entirely, allowing me to continue floating, though now my serenity was tinged with some regret. _But for what?_ There was no time to ponder it anyway; I was going… going… going... go

* * *

 _Affable: If anyone is actually reading this, you're probably wondering why updates are inconstant. It's because I write each chapter as I go, upload it as soon as it's done, and then start writing a new chapter. So, If you have any questions concerning anything that strikes you as odd about the story, ask it in the review I'm sure you'll DOUBTLESS prepare after reading this chapter. ...You are making a review, right? ...Right?_

 _R:_ Oh look, you're back from your nature walk.

 _A: My what now?_

 _R:_ Er, nothing. Like, review, and follow, everyone.

 _A: Seriously, my what? Never mind, I just remembered I should explain that line of hebrew that probably pasted wrong. It should translate as "_ May every stone, river, tree, and beast in this World rise against you. May every step you take to bring you closer to wrack and ruin. And may your end be brought about by those you care for most. _" Now you may wonder how an Angel would be able to lay curses on people, since that seems to be the propensity of witches. ...Bye!_


	4. Our First Look Outside

_Affable: *Ahem* Now what is the best way to say this...? Oh yes!_ _I HAVE A REVIEW! My life has meaning! Wait, um... I mean of I COURSE have a review! Really, it was only a matter of time. Heh heh... um..._

 _Rattles:_ If you're done having an episode, who the hell reviewed?

 _A: O-oh yeah. I would like to thank the academy..._

 _R:_ God damn it... I'm going to bed...

 _A: ...comprised of AlliyahTheAuthor. Thanks girl! Um, Miss? Milady? (Milady? What am I, the Comte de Rochefort?) ...yeesh, who turned the heat up? I'm just going to talk about something else. A minimum of three people would have had this passing thought: "Reading this guy's description of Lady Oriel, I can say with confidence that he knows what she looks like. But his description of her voice is bass-ackwards compared to the game. What gives?" Well the answer_ miiiight _surprise you. Or maybe not: Oriel's in-game voice SUUUUUCKS. It's really high and pitchy, just an assault on my ears. Plus, it doesn't fit at all with the character. I mean, a freaking angel packing a big ass sword guarding a magical garden? That's impressive and imposing and all that good stuff. But the voice is just terrible. So I changed it for the story. Now then, in this chapter, the plot still hasn't collapsed in on itself like a house of cards, so I'm doing something right. Enjoy!_

* * *

Our First Look Outside

 **PAIN. ONLY PAIN. FOR YEARS, EONS, UNTOLD ETERNITIES. NO MEMORIES, NO DREAMS, NO BEING. NO BEGINNING. NO END. NO GOOD. NO EVIL. NO LIGHT. NO DARKNESS. NO ORDER. NO CHAOS. ONLY THE VOID. ONLY** _ **OBLIVION**_ **.**

…

… **Was this all there was? All there would be? Was there really nothing to expect? Nothing to create? Nothing to look back on or hope for?**

… **No. There is nothing here. But then, there** _ **is**_ **no "here", now is there? There is nothing here to discover, nothing to love or fear. Nothing to respect or dismiss. This place is empty. It's nothing to me-**

I slammed back into my body with a gasp. I sat up, and promptly lied down again, clutching my head in agony. I heard a voice snap, "Hold on, hold on, I'm not done yet!" I felt a cooling current of energy run through my head. I sighed in relief as the pain disappeared entirely, and I opened my eyes to see Chrome staring at me intently, her hands on my temples. I coughed; my throat was lined with sandpaper. "Hey Chrome," I croaked, "do you have any water?" She silently handed me a cup. "Thanks." I swallowed a few welcome mouthfuls, and stood up with no problem; Chrome's healing magic was nothing to scoff at. I looked at the third occupant of the circle: Lady Oriel.

She was sitting on the ground, legs tucked under her and wings folded. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was easy. It was a marked improvement from the last time I saw her; Chrome seemed to be an expert healer. Beside me, the healer herself got up with a groan. "Yeah, she's resting now," she said. "But right now we've got bigger problems. If you're actually going to fight the Fir Darrig, I'll help, but I have to warn you: I can only heal a few times before I run out of energy, so we'll have to make this quick. Marcas is still down from whatever Lady Oriel did, but it looks like the Ghoul and the Leprechaun are ready to fight in his place." I looked over to the huddled group of monsters. Abraxus and Dean were the only ones standing; Marcas had collapsed, and Anathema was kneeling over him, sending Phil back and forth to their cannonball for supplies. I looked back to Chrome, who nodded, pale but determined, and we moved to meet with the two Fir Darrig.

We stopped roughly sit feet away from the pair. Feeling their animosity from there, Chrome seemed to shrink within herself. I rested my hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. She looked at me, and relaxed when I flashed a reassuring smile. Confident that she had my back, I turned back to the Fir Darrig. "Okay, you two," I called to them, "how do you want us to kick your asses?"

Dean snorted and said, "If you think you can take us, miss, I think a classic duel will do nicely, no need for anything fancy. Lead us to your circle." Abraxus growled in agreement…. probably. I turned to Chrome and asked, "Okay, so where's the circle?"

She winced, and, after a stretch of awkward silence, replied, "We… don't have a circle here."

"Pardon?"

"We don't have a circle. Who would use it? There are only fairies here, and Lady Oriel would usually blast whatever decided to break in."

"Oh yeah, because that system is working SO well right now."

"So what, this is my fault?"

"Well it isn't _my_ fault."

If you two are done carrying on," Dean called out to us, taking off his hat as if to inspect it, "there's another option available to us."

I turned, yet again, to him. "Oh, _really_? What, pray tell, would _that_ be, my good— GAH!"

Chrome pulled me toward her, allowing the spray of gold coins aimed for my head to pass by and hit the ground behind us, scoring deep grooves in the stone before fading away. I stared at them for a second, and rounded on the Leprechaun once again. "What the CRAP, Dean!? Is taking my head off really your FIRST GODDAMN MOVE!?"

Dean waved his hands in front of him in a gesture of surrender, clearly flustered. "I threw the wrong coins, I swear! I meant to throw the putty ones that stuck to people's faces!" He pulled out a handkerchief and mopped the sweat from his brow. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I did it all arseways. I was just trying to distract you for a minute, honest." I wanted nothing more than to punch him, but he looked sincerely apologetic.

"Whatever." Just because he was sincere didn't mean I had to forgive him. "Let's just go outside and duel on the circle there." Dean seemed relieved, if only because I wasn't shouting anymore. "All right then," he said. "Abraxus, let's go." Abraxus nodded, and the two went through the ruined doors.

I turned to face Chrome, mulling over my words. She waited patiently for a few seconds, wanting to hear what I had to say. When it became clear that I was having difficulty, she cleared her throat. "Well?" she prompted. My face burned with embarrassment. "I'm trying to thank you, just give me a second!" I blurted.

She gave me a sardonic look. "'Thank you' is a favorite, I hear."

Shut up! You saved my life; I'm just trying to do it properly. 'Thank you' doesn't cut it, you know?"

"You don't have to thank me; anyone would do the same. And besides, we're on a tight schedule. Have you even _been_ in a duel before?"

Annoyed and relieved at the shift in the conversation, I filed away the topic for later, promising myself I would make it up to her. "Lady, I don't even remember my own name. You'd think I had to, though, since I am a Dark Fairy; fighting is kinda what we do. I'd ask you the same question, but I think you answered that already. Just follow my lead, and we'll be fine." I smiled at her, but she was looking away from me, toward the exit. She her normally impassive face was set in a deep frown. She closed her eyes for a second and, her expression cleared, faced me. "About your name…"

 _My name? What does she…_

A throaty bark reached us from outside. "Yeah!" Dean's distinctive lilt followed, "Hurry up in -" he stopped and began to cough. Chrome shook her head. "I-I'll…" she petered off, nervous. She breathed in, clapped her hands together, and continued, sounding a bit more confident, "I'll tell you later. For now, let's deal with these guys, okay?"

I sighed, a bit miffed about having to wait, and said, "Okay." Together, we went through the doors, and had our first look of Unicorn Way proper.

* * *

"Holy spider balls," I breathed to Chrome, "this place is a war zone." It was only a slight exaggeration. There were piles of rubble where homes stood, and the ones left standing were defaced by huge fractures in the walls. The street was scorched and almost completely shattered, the area closest to the Hedge Maze being the only exception that we could see. I could see the forms of ghosts farther down the street, most likely the Lost Souls that inhabited the Way. _It's a bit weird for them to be this close, though. They're usually closer to the park._ Apart from the Souls, the only things I could see were Dean and Abraxus, standing on the magic circle in front of us.

Chrome began to speak, but broke off as a wave of sparkling red fumes blew into us, sending us both into a coughing fit. In between hacks, she managed to choke out, "Oh god, it _stings_!"

"I know, right?" Dean croaked, eyes streaming. "I got a face full of the stuff earlier! It's coming from that manhole over there." He jerked a thumb behind him; there was a wall of the same red vapor rising from a semi-melted manhole cover. "Chances are," Dean continued, "that's from the latest batch of potions that Rattlebones guy is cooking up. Anyway, let's do this." Abraxus let out a long growl and clanged his shovel against the ground. "I'm… not really sure what that means, boyo," Dean said, puzzled.

"He said, 'here's to a good match'. Clearly, he's taking this seriously."

We all turned towards the speaker in shock; we didn't notice anyone else before. Leaning against a tree was… some guy. He was around fourteen or fifteen years old, and had blue hair, tanned skin, and green eyes. He wore a white jacket and pants with red trim, and similarly colored boots with buckles. He was tossing a yellow scepter topped by a large, glowing pink gem from hand to hand. I could feel his energy from where I was standing: much smaller than Lady Oriel's, yet somehow more ordered and calm, like the surface of a lake. He was a wizard, and a powerful one at that.

He straightened and walked towards us with an airy smile. "So a duel, huh? That sounds like a lot of fun. That might even get N- get a friend interested. For once." For a moment, an unidentifiable emotion flickered in his eyes, and disappeared just as quickly. "By the way," the wizard continued, "the name's William. Will for short."

"Hello, Mr. ForShort, how do you – wait, no, that joke doesn't work in this situation. Damn."

Chrome gave me a reproachful look before she spoke to the wizard. "Hello, Will, I'm Chrome, and you mentioned a friend of yours? A… I want to say Nick?" The effect that name had when spoken was instant, and varied: Will's face displayed equal parts melancholy and irritation; Abraxus let out a bark of surprise, and dropped his shovel; I dropped to one knee, eyes squeezed shut, as pressure began to build in my skull. I couldn't hear anything over the roaring in my ears, though I could feel Chrome shaking me, trying to snap me out of it. The roar grew louder and louder until, all of a sudden, it stopped completely. The tingling in the back of my mind was gone; there was no one to sense. Somehow, some way, I was completely, utterly alone.

* * *

 _Affable: Well, that's all folks! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I bet it's a bit of a shock to find that Unicorn Way is in shambles. As it turns out, Rattlebones is a_ smidge _more threatening here than he is in the game. Don't tell him I said that, okay? Also, this came out in record time! I'm impressed with myself for once! ...Ignore that last bit. Later!_


	5. The Mindscape, and A Name

_Affable: Man, I am on fire right now! This chapter took me maybe three days to write; I'm just holding it close to my chest until Thursday. I guess that really says a lot about the quality of the work, doesn't it... never mind that! It's probably because the main of the chapter has only one character to write for, so I don't get stumped as long. Dialogue is always the hardest for me to write, because I want it to be believable, you know? Like, you can read it and you wouldn't find it clunky or awkward, and it just_ feels _like a normal conversation you would overhear while on the bus or whatever. On to the reviews:_

 ** _AlliyahTheAuthor (Chapter Three review): Oh, stop, you're making me blush! I imagine Phil is going to be fun to write. He's reminiscent of Morty Smith from_ Rick and Morty _. Hope you enjoy this chapter!_**

 ** _TheDiamondWriter: Thanks! I do my best, and I hope you keep reading!_**

 _Hope you all enjoy!_

* * *

After a minute, the pain in my head eased enough for me to open my eyes. _Did… did I just teleport?_ I was alone in what would have been my dream living room, if a few minutes of my not even two hours of total consciousness weren't filled with panic and explosions. All things considered though, it wasn't half bad. For one thing, everything was to scale. The walls were red with a black trim, with cyan curtains closed over the windows. I saw what seemed to be a half-dozen wands mounted on the far wall, each with a book underneath them. Dozens of maps and diagrams were tacked onto the walls, and a bookshelf filled with dark gray books barricaded the stairs. In its top row, I saw a bright red book, standing out among its drab shelf-mates. On an impulse, I rose until I was around eye level and read the spine: "Howdy!" With nothing better to do, and with no way to find out where I was or how to leave, I took the book off the shelf and sat down on an armchair in the corner of the room. Getting comfortable, I opened the book and began to read:

 **Howdy! I'm you! Rather, your Mindscape! I'm the guide to your own mind. I bet you're confused about what's going on in your life (so far as you can remember it!), so let me put it as clearly as I can: you're damaged. Badly. Whatever happened to you managed to break you into pieces too small to fit together. At least, not without help. … I'm making a real mess of this, aren't I? Let me explain… again.**

 **You see, I didn't exist before now. _You_ created me in your moment of need, because you couldn't handle the strain of that name bringing back a memory fragment. You created me an instant before you either went crazy, burst an artery, or… worse. …Oh, man, I'm really mucking this up. All I'm doing is making you feel bad about things you couldn't control…**

 **…At least until I came along! (Yes, nailed it!) You see, what happened to you just now was SUPER not normal. The name "Nick" had to be extremely important for this to happen. Most things that would trigger a memory to come back would, you know, cause a memory to come back. It had to be the name of someone you knew. Heck, "Nick" could actually be YOU. Do you think you're a Nicole? Nikki? Please say the first one; I always really liked that name. Um, moving on! The important thing right now is seeing your memory. Anytime a memory gets triggered, it gets filed away into one of the books there on that bookshelf. You can live through the memory again by opening the one you want. I should warn you, though, that the few memories you have are hugely incomplete. Hopefully, as you keep on living your life and searching for clues, you'll find enough to make a more complete picture of each.**

I had to close the book then. For some time I stared at the wall closest to me, counting the stripes. I felt so weird all of a sudden, not necessarily because of what I just read, though that did play a part. No, the real reason was that I didn't doubt any of it. I could feel the truth in the words I read, and recognized the energy thrumming throughout the room as my own. I rubbed at my eyes, tired and annoyed, and looked the book again… and did a quick double take. I could've sworn the cover of the book was blank, but now it had a thick black arrow pointing to my right. I took a second to collect myself, and looked right. On an end table that didn't exist before sat a cup of tea, steam gently rising from its surface, and a ring of glazed knot bread. _Okay, I can get used to this._ I pulled off a piece and popped it into my mouth. _Perfect_. Taking a sip of tea, I opened the book and picked up where I left off:

And the best part is, you can come back here anytime, for as long as you want! The time you already spent in here was barely a minute in real time. Well, that's the general idea, so now you can take a look at that 'Nick' memory of yours first (the blue book on the top shelf), and then read the black book on the bottom shelf. Then you can come back to this book, and we can wrap this up.

I put the book down, finished my snack, and drifted back to the bookshelf. The book that was next to the red book now on my end table ( _Is it weird that I'm calling it_ my _end table?_ ) had turned from its former gray to a somber blue color. I plucked it from the shelf and opened it without hesitation. The pages began to glow, and a high wind picked up, ruffling the papers on the wall. I covered my eyes as the glow turned to a brilliant shine, and with a final flash…

* * *

 **From an inky black void, a passing conversation drifts…**

 _"…I don't know Nicky… this might be too dangerous."_

 _"What, are you s-scared? 'C-cause I'm n-n-not. And y-you shouldn't be either."_

 _"I can see you shaking, Nicky…"_

 _"It's because it's c-cold out here! Look, if you don't wanna do this, then fine! I'll do it by myself!"_

 _"Wait, no! Nicky, STOP!"_

 **After a tension-filled moment, a metallic shriek serrates the silence. It stops, and the air is alive with dozens of sharp** _ **cracks**_ **.**

 _"No! NOOO! Oh god, oh my god! Nicky!? NICKY!_

* * *

I snapped back into the Mindscape, falling flat on my ass. Shaken and more than a little queasy, I wobbled over to the armchair and sank into it, rubbing my temples. _That was… intense,_ I thought to myself; I didn't have quite the right words for what I just saw. I got up and started pacing, needing to do something with myself. _What the hell_ was _that? I couldn't even see anything. I can't even begin to remember those voices, either. Hell, I'm not even sure if I was one of the speakers._ I faced the bookshelf, noticing that the memory book was back in its place (of course it was). I stooped to view the bottom shelf, and saw the black book in the center. I pulled it out, went back to the armchair, moved all the hard or sharp objects away from it. With that done I sat down and opened the book.

There was no real point for the safety measures, though, because there was nothing to read. The book was hollow, as if someone cut away the center of the pages, while leaving the edges intact. Inside the gap was a small wooden box, which I took out. Inside was a pack of what looked like playing cards. "Why is this even…" I trailed off as I touched the top card to turn it over. The moment I did, a wave of emotions crashed over me: pride, anger, joy, excitement, fear, and grief filled me to the brim instantly, and left as quickly as they came, leaving only a feeling of longing and familiarity. I jerked my hand away as if the deck gave me a shock. Tentatively, I touched the deck again. Nothing happened, so I turned the top card over. It had a picture of a Sunbird on it. I took out the deck and looked through it. There were about twenty cards, mostly Fire and Death School cards, with the exception of a sole Lightning Bats card and three Pixie cards. Overall, it looked like an Initiate wizard's deck. I put the cards back in their box, fitted the lid back on, and slipped it into my pocket. Then, I picked up the red book and continued reading:

Well _that_ was normal, at least. Hopefully, you'll find the missing pieces, or even find new memories. That'd be cool. As it is, though, you don't really know much more than you already did. There's a Nicky, there's someone else, and there's what I can only guess was a bad time. Oh, you need to leave now? Sorry, almost forgot about that. All you need to do is open that door over there.

…Hm? You're wondering about the deck? How should I know? I'm just a simulacrum created by your subconscious; I only know what you know. Now get out there, and let your friends know you're all right. And, you know, win that duel! See ya next time, Nicky! Or, you know, the other one…

I couldn't be more confused. " _I only know what you know,_ " I mocked when I got to the door. "Bullshit." My main problem, though, was the name. _Should I call myself Nicky? Nicole? Hell, was I the other speaker?_ _Was I either of them?_ I knew nothing about the memory snippet or the voices, other than the fact that they sounded rather young. I was going to go stir crazy if I stayed for muck longer, so I shunted it to the back of my mind and opened the door. Everything went black, and I felt like I was being squeezed through a narrow tube. This lasted for nearly a minute before I suddenly found myself lying on my back in front of the Hedge Maze, with Chrome, Dean, Abraxus, and Will standing over me in full on panic mode, none of them realizing my awakening.

"I've tried everything! She's still not awake!" Chrome seemed to be equal parts scared and livid, and she was making sure everyone knew it. To Will's credit, he was handling the tiny spitfire with an easygoing professionalism I envied. "Look, in cases like this, people sometimes don't react unless they're goaded. Maybe she'll react if we call her name."

Chrome stamped her foot. "I don't _know_ her name! _She_ doesn't know her name! She can't remember anything from before she woke up here! Oh, god, this is hopeless…"

I closed my eyes as she sunk to her knees next to me. I felt her hand against my forehead. Just then, it occurred to me that something with sharp corners was jabbing into my leg. "There's no fever," she said absently, "so what's wrong? It's like you…"

"…Just took a nap?" I offered.

Chrome let out a small shriek and jumped away from me. "I-I-I-I-I-I, u-um, y-you, you're up!" she stammered. She paused, and narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Wait… how long were you awake?" I got up and stretched for a bit. "About a minute or two ago. Why do you ask?"

"What the hell do you mean, 'why do I ask'?! You saw us worrying over you, and you just sat back and watched us flail around like jackasses, you shitbird!"

"Language, girl scout."

Chrome looked about ready to breathe fire. Luckily, Dean headed off the impending explosion by asking a very pertinent question: "Anyways, miss, you gave us a bit of a scare there. So we want to know: why did you collapse?"

Everyone was focused on me; even Chrome put a check on her rage to hear my answer. I gave a barebones explanation of the Mindscape and the bookshelf, leaving out the contents of the memory, as well as any mention of the deck I realized I still had in my pocket.

"A mental space you can go into at will for hours on the minute," Will said, rubbing his chin, "that's pretty damn cool, lady." The rest of our little gathering had similar sentiments. I smiled and nodded at this, and paused for a second. I thought about it a little more, and decided to go through with it. "Also, for future reference," I said, "you can all just call me Nicole."

* * *

 _A: And we have a name for our heroine! I think it's a good fit for her, personally. The tiny Wizard's deck she has is the Pharaoh's Deck. 20 cards, max of 3 copies, and a sideboard of eight make it a good deck for the wise Initiate. This chapter was the end of Arc One: Nameless. In the next arc, The Rout, our heroic duo will finally take on the Fir Darrig. Until then!_


	6. Duel!

_Affable: Happy holidays, everyone. I hope you're all having a better holiday season than I am. I'd elaborate, but this is hardly the place for it. I'll save my bitching for the appropriate time and place: the living room couch after drinking myself into a miserable stupor. You know, the traditional way._

 _Rattles:_ You're a miserable piece of work, aren't you?

 _A: Oh, hello Rattles. I haven't seen you in some time. I confess I didn't miss our little back and forths._

 _R:_ Er... pardon? Aren't you supposed to be... willfully ignorant of my put-downs?

 _A: Maybe after the New Year, Rattles... For now I'm just going to post this and sit down for a while..._

 _R:_...Well, everyone... enjoy the chapter, I guess. Wait, what about the-

 _A: Right, right... okay, so..._

 **AlliyahTheAuthor: _Oh yeah, I just noticed that. Well, I hope to see your thoughts on Chapter Seven, and thank you for your continued support._**

* * *

After a few minutes, Will, who wanted to know why we were there in the first place, was up to speed, and everything was set up: Chrome and I were standing in our own, smaller circles on one side of the magic circle, while Abraxus and Dean were in similar circles on their side. Will stood outside the circle watching carefully, having appointed himself referee. It looked like our duel, after some small distractions, was finally underway. Will cleared his throat and said in a mock-official tone, "This is an official doubles match between Dean and Abraxus of the Fir Darrig, and Nicole and Chrome of Unicorn Way! I am William StarSpear, your referee! The duel will start on my command. Is everyone ready?"

"Ready," Chrome said shortly.

"Ready," Dean lilted, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

 _CLANG_ , Abraxus's shovel rang as he clapped it against the ground.

I gave a thumbs-up with my left hand; my right was in my pocket, clutching the deck.

Will nodded. "Then this duel's first round has officially begun! You have thirty seconds to prepare your attacks!" The circle glowed and displayed countless runes and glyphs, the ancient magicks within them binding us to the circle until the completion of the duel. A small, white orb of benign-feeling energy—a Pip—sprang up on the edge of each duelist's circle. Chrome, Abraxus, and Dean closed their eyes, the spells they were preparing requiring absolute concentration to even have a chance of working. I looked around for a bit, enjoying the concentration of magical energy in the air, before I pulled out a full hand of cards and looked at my options: Fire Elf, two Glacial Shields, Lightning Bats, Dream Shield, Fireball ( _Fireball?_ ), and Fire Cat. The circle indicated that Dean and Abraxus were first, so I decided to cast Dream Shield. Holding it in front of me, I put the rest of the cards back into my pocket, outside their box; it crossed my mind that I really needed more than one pocket to hold things. Will was blind to the whole thing, as he was speaking into thin air, too soft for me to hear. He looked back at the duel, registering the card in my hand but not reacting to it, choosing instead to shout, "Time! Round start!"

I hid the card, not wanting to throw Dean off on his turn. He quickly drew a Life symbol in the air and activated it. The center of the circle flashed, and a tiny, cackling green creature, with stubby nubs for legs—an Imp—appeared. Still laughing, it veered in front of Chrome, pulled out a fiddle, and clanged its bow against the strings, striking impossibly jarring chords. Chrome reeled back as far as the circle allowed, clutching her ears in an attempt to block out the sound. After a few seconds of this, the Imp stopped, allowed the fiddle and bow to fade, and gave an exaggerated bow to everyone before vanishing with a small _pop_. The circle's indicator then pointed to Abraxus.

He drew a Death symbol with practiced ease, and swung at it with full force. A spiked Ward appeared in front of me, radiating dark energy; it was a Death Trap, used specifically to amplify the power of a Death Spell. Considering he would get a Pip next turn to join the Pip he already had, Abraxus would more than likely use Ghoul, not only belting out an impressive amount of damage, but also healing any damage he might receive this round. _No time to think about that now_. The indicator turned to me; it was my turn.

I brought out the card, and heard gasps of shock from the other duelists. I couldn't fault them for it; with the odd exception here and there, Card Magic was exclusive to wizards. Other beings used actual spells to perform magic. Being an outlier also represented a new danger, however: unpredictability. Normal spellcasting creatures had a School of magic, a set power-based Rank, and a few types of spells within their Primary (and Secondary) School they could use to their heart's content, as long as they had the mana. Wizards, though having the obvious disadvantage of limited deck space and being bound to the hand they drew, had two main advantages over other magic users. The first was magical diversity. Wizards, being able to learn a number of spells from a variety of Schools (not to mention being able to use disposable Treasure Cards), are notoriously difficult to set up a proper strategy against. The second was that, while most Ranked beings rarely, if ever, moved into a higher Rank, wizards use an entirely different system using levels, allowing them to become stronger at a substantially faster rate. Paired with the streamlined method of learning combat magic via cards, this made even the greenest wizard, given several months at Ravenwood, a match for any opponent in this World, save for their upperclassmen. Unpredictability had its downside, though: an ally wouldn't be able to guess at your strategy or your hand, and due to the nature of a duel, you couldn't really discuss tactics with your partner without the enemy hearing you. It would take someone with intimate knowledge of the wizard's fighting style, or who knew them personally, to be able to predict their movements and choose a course of action accordingly. Seeing as not even I had the first thing, and my acquaintance with Chrome had just reached the two-hour mark, Chrome and I were more likely to get in each other's way than actually help each other in this duel.

I drew a Death symbol and, with a snap, activated it. A green ward and a yellow ward appeared around me, guarding against Life and Myth, respectively. The card in my hand then crumbled into ash. I had no reason to fear, though; it, along with any other cards I used, would return to my deck at the end of the duel. Finally, it was Chrome's turn. She drew an Ice symbol, and pressed its center to activate it. An Ice Beetle flash-froze into existence and slammed into Abraxus.

"Round end! You have thirty seconds to prepare!" Will seemed to be done with his conversation, and had his full attention on the duel. Dean was definitely thrown by sudden reveal of my deck, and was sweating profusely. Abraxus, on the other hand, seemed much calmer. So calm, in fact, he didn't seem to be preparing a spell at all. There was only one reason he would do that: he was going to use an even higher rank spell next turn. I didn't know how much damage I could take, but a Rank three spell paired with a Trap wouldn't be a picnic for anyone. Next to me, Chrome looked like she was taking my revelation much better than Dean, but still stole glances at me when she thought I wasn't looking. I brought out my hand, adding to it the Death Shield I drew from my deck. _Time to nip his little strategy in the bud_ , I thought, picking the Shield and putting the rest of my hand back in my pocket just before Will clapped his hands once and said, "Time's up! Round two start!"

Like last round, Dean drew a Life symbol, but because of his nerves, it came out crooked and dim, and with a _fizzle_ crumbled into a pile of ash when he tried to activate it. I prepared to use my card, willing the indicator to go over Abraxus quicker, but it wasn't budging. Instead, Abraxus's Pips disappeared and his circle dimmed, allowing him to leave it. _What the hell? Did he just quit?_ I looked at the rim of the main circle; still glowing, meaning he couldn't leave the duel proper. _Then what the hell is this?_

He strode to the center of the circle, facing me. Two things happened in quick succession: the Death Trap suddenly burst in front of me, leaving a cloud of dark energy between the two of us; and I suddenly realized what he was doing. I began to fly upwards the same time he hurled his shovel through the cloud, charging it with Death magic. It connected with my gut, driving the air out of my lungs and knocking me to the ground.

"Nicole! Are you okay!?" Chrome shouted, panicked. I did my best to answer, but only managed a mangled "Groooaaauugghh…" in response. It took a minute or two to get my breath back, but when I did, the first thing I did was look at my torso. My tunic had a huge gash where the shovel connected, and when I pulled it up to check the damage on my body, several leaves broke off and fell. My stomach was a mottled gray and indigo bruise, the darkest area being right above the navel where the shovel's edge struck. It was a thick, wide line of black and gray flesh, and in some places the skin was broken, oozing glistening black blood. Looking at the wound, I knew that taking another hit like that was out of the question. I stood up tall, ignoring Chrome's (and Dean's) protests, and looked Abraxus square in the eye. Safe in his circle, all he could offer me was a shrug; it was a duel between (relative) equals, and pulling punches would most likely end in defeat. The cloud of an unidentifiable dark emotion drifted over me, and I held my fist out in front of me, thumb stuck out to the side. He seemed confused, until slowly, I turned it until it pointed down. The others in the circle were confused, but Abraxus flashed a grin and smacked his shovel against the ground, relishing the challenge. Will understood the significance of my gesture, too, but unlike Abraxus, he didn't seem to approve. It didn't really matter to me, though, as it was finally my turn. I drew my symbol, and my Death Shield appeared with a flash, nestled between the two slightly smaller Wards I already had. Chrome's turn was next, and she delivered: drawing her Life symbol with ease, she summoned a translucent copy of a Sprite. The Sprite circled me, forming a thin veil of healing energy around me before fading away. "Round two is over!" Will's voice rang out. "You have thirty seconds!"

I drew a new card, a Sunbird, and returned the rest of my hand to my pocket. Soon after that, Will called the beginning of the round. Dean, having gotten a measure of his cool back, drew and activated a quick Balance symbol. A ghost-like sword, chipped and rusty, phased into existence over my head, leaving me cursing silently; I didn't know the Charm's name off the top of my head, but I knew it would weaken my Sunbird. Abraxus passed, sparking relief at the respite, and worry over what he would use next round. My turn began with a pulse of healing magic from Chrome's spell, soothing the pain enough so that I could bear standing as tall as I was without feeling the urge to scream. The moment I began to draw, the thrum of power in the air began to grow louder, reacting to the imminent activation of a higher Rank spell. The symbol grew hotter even as I drew it, driving me away from it. Changing from orange to white in the span of a few seconds, it ended not with the expected explosion, but rather with an anticlimactic _fizzle_ , leaving a crumbly gray Fire symbol hanging in the air until a stronger gust of wind reduced it to ash , carrying it away. I looked at the direction it flew off towards. "…Shit." Chrome tsked cheekily, cast a Death Shield on herself, and that was the end of the round.

I was really feeling the heat now, having drawn another Dream Shield. _My entire hand is worthless!_ , I thought wildly. _What do I do?!_ I was beginning to sweat, trying to work out a strategy. But unless a miracle happened, this would be my last turn. In desperation, I dumped half my hand, hoping I would last until next round. Then, from my pocket, I heard a slight _shift_. Pulling out my deck, I saw a slightly different card on top of the others. I drew it, and quickly stifled a gasp. _A Treasure Card of-_ I put away the rest of my cards and held the Treasure Card close to my chest. Will's voice rang out, "Time! Begin!"

Dean drew and activated yet another Life symbol, summoning a see-through copy of a Leprechaun, that catapulted a cascade of gold coins directly on top of Chrome's head. As small as she was, she was buried under the pile of metal until it (and the Leprechaun) disappeared. Chrome managed to get up, though she seemed to have trouble keeping her eyes open. I called across to her, "You okay there, Chrome?" She started waving me off irritatedly, but had to catch herself before she fell.

Abraxus drew his Death symbol with a grin, and activated it with a whack. The center of the circle erupted a fountain of dirt as a Ghoul jumped out of the ground, facing me. It pointed its shovel at me, and began to _will_ my energy away. I felt my energy being drained away, leaving me with a deep chill. The Ghoul then faced Abraxus, and transferred the energy— _my_ energy—to him. It was finally my turn, and I didn't hold back.

Unflinching, I drew the Fire symbol before it immolated. It took all of my resolve not to pull away from it before I completed it; the symbol before was hot, but this was **burning**. Finished, I activated it with a snap from my other hand and collapsed, biting my tongue; if I started cursing now, I didn't know when I'd stop. A _boom_ snapped me out of it, and I looked up just in time to see Dean get sent sprawling by a meteor larger than he was. Abraxus tried to defend against his imminent defeat, to no avail. The fiery space rock slammed into him, throwing him back into the ruined building behind him. The circle faded, and the buzz of magic followed suit. The duel was over, and Chrome and I had emerged the victors.

* * *

 _A:This chapter's end may be a bit abrupt, but for the life of me, I can't figure out how to fix it. Either way, I hope this duel was fun to read and imagine. I always assumed that only Conjurors could summon real monsters; the rest of Schools make do with magically created copies. Next chapter, our little Nicole will have to face the greatest challenge in her new life: Marcas the Storm, the leader of the Fir Darrig. Some now irrelevant information before I go: Abraxus, Dean, and Chrome are all Rank Two spellcasters, and their Schools are (obviously) Death, Life, and Life. This would mean that Rank Two spells, as well as standard shields for their opposing Schools wouldn't be out of place. Nicole's assumption that Abraxus was readying a Rank Three spell was still plausible, though, if not terribly likely; Abraxus seems to be notably stronger than the other Rank Twos in this chapter. Nicole, using a deck, is not a Ranked being but is rather a Leveled one. She is currently LV 12. Will is... considerably stronger than that. If you want to know how strong, the next chapter's got that covered, too. And with that, goodnight._


	7. The Storm

_A: I'm back. I couldn't get the chapter ready last thursday, so instead of posting on Saturday, when I finished it, I instead kept going. Hope it's worth the wait. Something I want to say beforehand: I wanted some of the more important characters to have 'themes'; you know, music that really fits them. For now I've got one; when the INTENSE happens in this chapter, think of (or play) 'The Hero', One Punch Man's opening theme. I'll think of some more later._

 _R:_ So you're back to normal?

 _A: Depends on what you consider "normal", but yeah, more or less._

 _R:_ Good to know. You were freaking me out more than usual.

 _A: That's nice. Enjoy, everyone._

* * *

"Aaaaand it's over!" Will seemed to be equally amazed and deflated by the duel's conclusion. For a moment, he stared at the building Abraxus and Dean were knocked into. I thought he was ruminating silently, until I caught what sounded suspiciously like "Best to be safe". Still turned to the building, he began to speak in a casual, but measured way. "Hey, Nicole? Not to bother you, but that Meteor Strike spell you used..." He cocked his head to one side, as if he were trying to find the right words. A feeling of something being… not quite right began to ring in the back of my head. He continued, words coming out a bit faster. "Was it… a Treasure Card, by any chance? Like, you don't actually run the real spell in your deck?"

I was confused, and a little wary of his question. "…yeah, it was a Treasure Card. Why?"

He shifted a little and turned around, an apologetic grin on his face. "Nothing, really," he said. "It's just a bit disappointing, you know? I mean, if you did have that card, it would've meant that you were a Magus. You'd have been the strongest thing in Unicorn Way, and the only real opponent in the World outside of the Dueling Arena." He shrugged, dispelling the tension in the air, and made his way towards the ruin. "Anyways, I should probably get those two out of the rubble. Your friend looks like she could use some help, too." A mumbled "I'm fine, I'm fine" from Chrome did nothing to stop me from rushing over and checking her over.

Aside from a nasty bump on her head, there didn't seem to be anything visibly wrong with her. "Come on, let's get you up," I said, preparing to support her, but she pushed me away gently, standing up on her own. "If I said I'm fine, I'm fine," she muttered crossly, prompting me to ruffle her hair. "You two should probably grab some wisps," Will called out to us, Seeing the handle of a shovel, he grabbed it and, with a grunt of effort, pulled out half of it, along with a dust-coated Dean. Depositing the coughing Leprechaun under the sole tree, he pondered to himself absently, "Now where's Abraxus?", as he returned to rooting through the rubble.

* * *

Abraxus slipped through the broken doors of the Hedge Maze, carrying the remaining half of his shovel. Charred and warped as it was from trying to block the Dark Fairy's spell, it most likely had to be replaced, to his chagrin. The manner of his loss was simply too humiliating to ignore. Either Nicole was a Magus-level spellcaster, rendering the whole duel moot, or she used a single-use spell card, which was an affront to their challenge. He barked at Carbuncle, calling the Fire Elf to him. "What do ya need, sir?" the young Fir Darrig called out to him as he bounded over; the senior member was always both impressed and annoyed by the youth's manic energy.

Abraxus jerked his chin at the scene before them: Anathema and Phil, each wearing lime-green goggles, a Viking helmet, and an artificial lei, holding between them a frightfully large dragon, which was puffing iridescent smoke into the face of their fallen leader, to no visible effect. The two remaining Fir Darrig watched this spectacle in either bemusement (on Abraxus's end) or mirth (on Carbuncle's). When he was done stifling his giggles, the Fire Elf turned back to his superior. They've been at this since you two left to fight the fairies." He leaned in and said in a lower voice, "By the way, I saw that your shovel got… got. What happened back—hrmph!" Abraxus put his hand over his face and pushed him aside, stalking towards the idiots that, somehow in the past year, became like family. Dropping the now useless shovel, he cuffed the oddly-garbed members and let loose a bark of admonition, bowling over Phil, but barely rocking the Scarecrow; the dragon, let loose, scurried off into the hedges. Anathema whirled to face him, indignation clear from her movements if not from her ever-grinning face.

" _What was that for, shovel man!?_

 _We're trying to wake the boss!_

 _If your plan's better, spill it then,_

 _but if it ain't, get lost!_ "

Abraxus was a bit taken back by her irritated dismissal, not by her acerbic tone (which he was more or less immune to by now) but by the fact that she was speaking in rhyme; though it was her normal method of speech, within a fortnight of her joining the Fir Darrig, it was decided in a vote that a conversation with her was an exercise in masochism, and that she needed to take speech classes before the rest of the crew went mad. Nowadays, she rarely spoke in rhyme except in times of extreme panic. This told Abraxus that the situation concerning Marcas was very dire, indeed. He didn't bother questioning the outfits; some obscure, probably fake ritual was most likely to blame. Instead, he knelt down to check Marcas: his face was pale , and twisted into a grimace; despite that, there were no visible wounds, and he didn't have a fever. If Abraxus didn't know any better, he would assume that Marcas was experiencing a bad dream. However, the Seraph's curse still rang in his ears, even now; though he didn't understand _what_ she said, the result was right in front of him: somehow, she fashioned a curse powerful enough to render him unconscious.

It was obvious that Annie and Phil were failing in their attempt to break the curse. It wasn't especially surprising considering that the Seraph was well beyond any of the Fir Darrig in terms of power; even Marcas, as hard-headed as he was, knew that a straight battle between them and her would earn them a humiliating defeat, which was why he got Mildred to charm ribbons with the Entangle spell. _If she can't hit us_ , Marcas had explained, _then there'll be no one who can stop us from taking over_.

A curse, of course, was an entirely unprecedented development; angels, being angels, weren't normally known for their hexing prowess. Not many things were, as a matter of fact; classic curse-craft was such an esoteric, convoluted, and often ineffectual skill that terribly few people ever took more than a passing glance at it before (rightly) declaring it worthless, and curse- _breaking_ fared little better. Which brought Abraxus back to the Main Problem: Marcas was cursed; in what manner, he couldn't guess at, but he was unconscious, though that could be attributed to shock rather than the curse itself. If it was an effect of the curse, then they would eventually be defeated, and forced to leave the Maze. Then, they would seek out Mildred again, as she was the only cursebreaker they knew (or, at least, the only one who would deal with them), to get her to lift the curse, a prospect Abraxus immediately discarded; not only would this attack be an all-around failure, Mildred would never let Marcas live it down, and he in turn would blame them. He could already picture it: _You were fighting a bunch of FAIRIES! How the hell did you idiots lose!?_ Whatever they said, their leader would reject under the belief that their failure was due to not the opponent's superior strength (indeed Abraxus, who experienced it firsthand, wouldn't ask Marcas to extend his suspension of disbelief that far), but rather an inner weakness that could be exorcised by a no-nonsense _Self-Confidence Regimen_ that included survival matches on tiny, unpopulated Worlds a dozen meters across, suicide sprints through vast cave systems, and the telling of deep, dark, _embarrassing_ secrets, to name the least severe trials. If that didn't cure their lack of confidence, it would at least make them fear it enough to silence any voice of trepidation that rose up in the future. Pulling himself out of his train of thought with a shudder, he considered the other possibility: that Marcas's unconsciousness was _not_ part of the spell's effect, and had in fact been caused by shock. In which case…

Pulling from his store of energy, he generated a thin, wavering aura around his hand, ignoring the smell of ozone that wafted over him. Laying it flat across his leader's chest, he _pushed_ the energy into Marcas, the energy surge jolting him awake with a yelp. He leapt to his feet immediately, surveying the area with a practiced eye, but neglecting to turn around, where Annie, Carbuncle, and Phil were getting over their shock and looked ready to burst. "Abraxus!" he barked, unaware of the danger behind him, "where the hell are the oth—GAH!" He was cut off by the others leaping on him for a group hug.

"Marcas!" cried Carbuncle.

"You're okay!" said Phil.

"But of course you would be! I didn't doubt that for a second," Annie said with a straight face (figuratively speaking), all the same hugging the fairy as tightly as her straw arms would allow.

"Meh meh,vrrf noi, va coujull ge OVVAME?!" Marcas's words, though muffled to the point of incoherence, were understood completely by his assaulters, who jumped back, their worries over his wellbeing mollified. He turned back to Abraxus, mind already on the next topic. "What happened to me?" Abraxus made a gesture with his hand, making their signal for "curse"; actually trying to convey that in his usual manner of communication would only result in confusion and irritation for everyone involved. Marcas blinked, and looked over at the still sleeping guardian of the Maze. "But… she's an angel. Right?" Abraxus shrugged, feeling a bit helpless considering the potential explanations. Marcas contemplated the conundrum for a few seconds, before abandoning the issue entirely in favor of looking at the broken shovel on the ground. "Isn't that your shovel?" Hoping against hope that Marcas wouldn't ask him THE question, he nodded.

"I'm guessing you dueled the kid who screwed everything, huh?"

Abraxus nodded grimly, mentally letting out a sigh of relief; Marcas, knowing how skilled he was, would take it for granted that he won, being unaware of Nicole's… ace in the hole. The tiny bubble of hope that welled up in his chest popped when he heard, "Did you win?"

Cursing his luck, he briefly considered lying, but something told him that _that_ course of action could only lead to disaster. He begrudgingly informed his leader and friend of the events of the past half-hour.

"… _The f_ #% _!?_ "

* * *

"Welp, can't find the dude here. He must've slunk off into the maze." Will wiped the sweat off his brow, and glanced at his ruined outfit with a hint of dismay on his face. "I'm going to change," he said, his voiced tinged with resignation. You three just… wait for a sec?" He went behind the tree for a few seconds, and emerged in what seemed to be a… bird outfit.

It wasn't _really_ a bird outfit, of course. But it was definitely in the style: the hood had black opal eyes on the sides, as well as an honest-to-god beak protruding from the lip; the main part of the robe a bright ruby set in the both the chest and shoulder, with black feathers sticking out from the shoulder gem. The whole thing was red, with white flame decals, and there was a line of black runes around the hem.

Will grimaced, and said, "I see the looks on your faces, and let me just say: don't. It was a gift, it functions perfectly well, and keeping it clean is actually _doable_. So spare me the jokes; I heard 'em all already." Chrome and Dean were able to stay composed, but I couldn't keep a lid on my snickers, until the sorcerer decided to rain on my parade. "You're in no position to laugh. Any competent duelist who saw that last move would ridicule you."

That got through to me. "What are you talking about?"

"Challenges, like the one you made to Abraxus, expressly forbid the targeting of other combatants, healing yourself, Charms and Wards of any kind, and any spell that is not specifically within your power, and was instead given to you by an item… or Treasure Card. To Abraxus, that move of yours meant either you just decided to cheat, or it was a deliberate insult. Heck, that's probably why he left."

I was shocked. "But… I didn't…" I tried to defend myself, but stopped. The fact was, I knew full well that I didn't remember everything about it, and I went ahead and did it anyway. I was two hours into the rest of my life, and I was already known as a cheater, or an asshole. The fact that Abraxus was even now an enemy didn't ease the bitter taste in my mouth in the slightest. I flopped to the ground with a groan, the dry grass scratching at my face. Will saw my distress, and seemed apologetic. "Sorry," he said, "I just get a bit prickly when people poke fun at me. Look, we can just go inside, find Abraxus, explain the situation, boom, problem solved. You _did_ lose your memory, after all. He'd have to be a total asshole to not forgive you." I… didn't consider that at all, actually. _Yeah, he'd understand! I'm just an amnesiac he hit with a shovel, so really, he should have no problem understanding that I just misunderstood the terms. So there's no problem at all!_ I then stopped, and sat up from my facedown position. There was something wrong. _It's quiet. Too quiet._ The birds, tweeting happily enough just minutes ago, were gone, along with any sign of insects and small animals. It felt like the World was holding its breath; in anticipation or fear, I didn't know.

And then the reason revealed itself: an impossibly massive energy spike appeared in the Way, near where I guessed the park was, and began moving toward us, terrifyingly fast. Chrome, Dean, and I jumped up from our spots under the tree, and nearly fell over again from the force of what felt like molten rage slamming into us. Dean immediately took off toward the maze, shouting, "Guys! GUYS! We gotta go! NOW! Pick up Marcas and run!" Chrome shrieked and tried to pull me… somewhere. I was frozen in panic, unable to process anything except the approaching energy. Those two couldn't sense power like I could; I realized it a few minutes ago, when I tried to explain how exactly Will's energy was different from Lady Oriel's. This, though… it was like an enraged elemental, an avatar of destruction cleaving through Reality itself. It made Oriel look like… _me_ , I guess. I registered Chrome tugging on my arm, which annoyed me, but I was too busy trying not to quake out of my skin to do anything about it. With a huff, she let go of me, which I appreciated, and kicked me in the head, sending me careening to the ground, which I _didn't_ appreciate.

"What the _fuuuuu—_ " I stopped as Chrome lifted me a few inches off the ground with a grunt (I was somewhat bigger than her), and started to fly towards the Hedge Maze. "You can't do anything against something like that," she whispered gently. "It's nothing like the Fir Darrig. Just let Will handle it, okay?"

I was stunned – well, more so. _She thinks I was standing there because I wanted to_ fight _that thing._ I could've laughed, if I wasn't filled with so much self-loathing. _If that thing was in front of me, the only thing I would've done was throw up._ I started as I processed the rest of what she said. _Will's gonna fight it? Doesn't he feel that thing's power?! It's gonna tear him in half!_

I quashed my fear and twisted out of Chrome's grip, darting in front of Will, who flashed me a small smile before fixing his attention on the Power; it seemed to be coming slower than before, though it was as huge as ever. It was too close now, about to round the corner into view. Ignoring the sounds of a scuffle behind me (I found out later that Will was restraining Chrome, preventing her from literally dragging me back into the Maze by the hair), I saw the Ghosts flicker and tremble, before flying back as though shot from a cannon. And then the wind hit us: alive with electricity and extremely dry and hot, its strength nearly knocked me flat. I straightened in time to see a boy of about sixteen taking purposeful strides toward us, the power radiating off of him creating a maelstrom of epic proportions. He was… _white_ , to say the least. For starters, he was dressed like the world's most dapper pimp: white top hat, white suit and gloves, white cape flowing freely behind him, and white boots; all with red trim, much like Will's clothes. Paired with positively pale skin and snowy hair, he looked like an especially vibrant ghost. The only things about him that didn't fit his monochromatic-ness (not sure how to use that word, exactly) were his "wand", a flashing, orange and green spear slung around his back, and his eyes; at first, I thought that they were gray, like Chrome's, but as he stopped about ten feet away from us (tooclosetooclosetoocloseohmygodHE'STOOCLOSE) I realized that they were a molten silver, blazing brilliantly like eldritch moons. As I got a good look at him, I saw that he looked almost… _pretty_. He could've been mistaken for a girl if he dressed ambiguously enough; hell, he could have actually _been_ a girl, and I was just thrown off by the cape (in my defense, it was a sweet ass cape; it was twirling behind him and everything like a cape should when you're about to kick some ass). Lightning arced across the cloudless sky, and the air vibrated with a heavy pulse of energy, as the Wizard leveled his gaze at Will, who smiled back at him genially. The Wizard narrowed his eyes. "William StarSpear," he said. I was surprised; his voice _really_ didn't fit him. I expected it to be either high and clear, like a girl's, or deep and booming, which would fit his power. But he sounded… _normal_. Just a regular teenager's voice, as impassive as his expression. Didn't matter. His aura said enough.

"Nick. Glad to see you're up." Will was still smiling, apparently happy to see what only appeared to be a walking Doomsday scenario. A bolt of lightning came down, obliterating the closest ruin. The force of the explosion threw Chrome and I to the ground, but leaving the Wizards unfazed. Only one thought ran through my head: _Holy goddamn shit, we're all going to_ DIE _._

* * *

The Fir Darrig felt the energy of an impossibly strong being appear in the Way, and began to panic as soon as it began to rocket towards them as if guided by pure rage. Abraxus in particular was affected by it, as he recognized the energy signature. His thoughts raced, trying to find a solution before HE showed up. He looked to his team for ideas, but abandoned that course of action when he saw them running around like chickens with their heads cut off. The only one actually doing anything productive was Marcas, and he was busy trying to corral the idiots under his command. His annoyance driving back his terror enough for him to act, Abraxus reached out, plucked a screaming Carbuncle off of Anathema's head, took the horn the Fire Elf carried on his belt, and blew a series of short, sharp notes, making the others stop in their tracks. With everyone calm(er than they were), Marcas was free to ask the most important question: "Is it him? The Wizard you were talking about?" Abraxus nodded, and made the agreed-upon symbol: _IceFlame_. Marcas stared at it for a moment, and leaned back, looking at the ceiling.

"…Shit."

* * *

I had a moment of clarity: In terms of power, Chrome and I were children, standing before a giant, standing before an Earthlord; if it came down to a fight, we were going to burn. "So," Will said, still smiling ( _oh god please stop smiling you're gonna get us all killed_ ), "what do you need?"

"Where are my keys?"

I blinked. _W…what?_

"Your… keys?"

"Yes. My keys. I require them to open things."

"I know how keys function, yes."

"So where are mine?"

"I would assume _you_ had them."

His expression didn't change, but the wind, already howling, began to scream, with small flames beginning to race around us. "Odd, then, that I _distinctly_ remember you saying not ten minutes ago that you had them."

Will's smile turned coy. "Well, _I_ distinctly remember saying that I _took_ them. At this point, I don't have them."

The air began to vibrate, pebbles and smaller chunks of asphalt rising into the air and incinerating. The heat haze obscured the two Wizards' features, but left their voices comprehensible. Nick's sounded annoyed when he responded, completely understating the titanic fluctuations his aura produced as it condensed around us, halting at a twelve-foot diameter: "Then where are they?"

"Check your bag. You brought it with you, if I'm not mistaken about the object on your back-"

The air surrounding us ignited, sending the three of us diving to the ground. Will's smile was finally gone, and he actually seemed a bit worried, which was _so much_ worse. The ground directly under Nick seemed to be coated with frost, while the area immediately outside it was superheated into a roiling black liquid. Chrome, "safely" behind me, let out a quiet whimper as another pulse of energy drove us flat against the rapidly heating asphalt. I was nearly out of my mind with terror; I wanted nothing more than to do or say something, _anything_ , to get Nick to stop, but I knew if I opened my mouth, I'd either throw up or burst into tears. _How did we even get to this,_ I thought. _One second I was letting Chrome and Dean look at my Deck, the next some power lord is getting ready to blast us into ash._ I started giggling, understandably a bit beyond reason at that point. I tried to get up then, but Nick's expression finally changed, a wry grin illuminating his formerly grim features. For some reason, the new manic energy on display scared me more than the fireworks, and I quailed, letting myself sit down, shame coursing through me. I felt something move behind me, making me jerk in surprise. I looked over to see Chrome resting her hand on my shoulder. She gave me a sad smile. _It's okay_ , her eyes seemed to say. Hurricane-force winds swirled around us, the flames reaching an all-time high. Then, all of a sudden, it stopped. The wind died instantly, the flames extinguished themselves, and the physical pressure of Nick's aura simply vanished, leaving only the still massive, but tolerable, _mental_ pressure. He swung his bag around front and dug through it, finally pulling out a set of sparking keys. Hooking them onto his belt, he looked back at Will, who had risen when the storm died, and was now successfully shaking off the tar from his robe. "Well thanks for wasting my time. Just curious, how high do you think the chance was I was going to attack you just now?"

Will had a thoughtful expression on his face. "Hmmm… I can say with confidence… roughly thirty percent. In reality?"

"Significantly higher. How strong do think you are?"

"Well, I'm Level twenty-nine, so almost a Magus; my deck is up to date; so reasonably strong. Why?"

"How strong do you think I am? Specifically, my Level?"

"Um… I'm guessing forty-five?"

"Try seventy."

That managed to shock Will… as well as Chrome and I. "Holy shit, Senpai," he said wide-eyed. "I thought a Master was the absolute! You said that yourself!"

"I was wrong. And don't call me Senpai. It's weird. Is there ANY reason you called me here, or can I just leave?"

Unperturbed, Will said, "Well, there _was_ a duel I wanted you to see, but it ended surprisingly quickly. _But_ , I can say with confidence that an even better duel will take place shortly."

Nick sighed. "Oh, the joys of being paired with a complete shitbird," he muttered to himself.

"You say that too?"

Nick jumped into the air in shock, and looked around, bewildered, until he locked eyes with the speaker.

"Y…yes, I do. Um, were you two here the entire time?"

"Yes, we were. I'm Chrome, and this is Nicole." Chrome actually seemed at ease with the Wizard, despite _everything that happened literally a minute ago_.

"…Ah. My name is Nicholas. Nicholas IceFlame. Ignore any use of "Nick" or… _Senpai_ … from my idiot compatriot. I suppose I should extend an apology to you two. I only really do… _that_ … when I'm sure there's no one else around. I didn't even _feel_ you on my radar." Ouch.

"Well next time make the effort to employ CONSTANT VIGILANCE before setting the air on fire."

He held up his hand. "Scout's honor. In any case," he addressed to Will, "I'm going to go ahead and guess that _they_ are the duelists you were talking about earlier."

"You would be right. The ones they're going to fight are right in that building."

"What, you mean the Hedge—" He finally saw the smashed ruins of the doors. "Okay, what. The f# %?"

"Yeah, apparently the Fir Darrig smashed right through the doors in a giant cannonball."

"The _WHO?_ A _WHAT?_ I was gone for six months, what the hell happened?"

* * *

 **Ten Minutes Later…**

"Rattlebones, huh… everyone seemed so sure that Eric killed him. I suppose this," he waved his hand at the devastation around us, "is our reward for not employing CONSTANT. VIGILANCE." He said the last two words in a booming voice that echoed across the Way, jarring us out of our comfortable stupor. He grinned. " _Man_ , that's fun to say."

I shook my head, trying to get back to base; I wanted nothing more than a hot meal and at least eighty hours of sleep, but I had a job to do. "So now that you know our problem, can you help us solve it?"

Nicholas looked down, rubbing his chin as he thought. Finally he looked back up. "In a word, no. Sorry."

"…Please?"

He sighed. "Sorry, but it's kind of out of my hands. I forgot my deck at home. And even if I did, I probably wouldn't be able to beat them before they beat you. I mean, you could stay out, and me and Will could—"

"No."

"So that's the way it is, sadly. So a traditional duel is out. Which means an all-out magical brawl. In which case, you're in luck: I'm not an especially great duelist (not that it matters against these guys) but I _am_ a fighter. That's the main attraction at the Grand Arena, after all." Seeing the blank look on my face, he looked askance. "I'll… tell you about it later. For now—" he stuck out his hand to me. "How about we beat on some losers?" I put a clamp on the giggle before it managed to burble out of my throat, and instead grabbed his hand, pulling myself up. "Let's do it."

* * *

 _A: I was thinking of an official schedule, and I think this'll work: Thursdays will always be my update day; as to_ which _thursday will depend on how long I want the chapter. Normal chapters are about 1500-1800 words long without author's notes. This chapter is about 4500 words long. The longer ones will take another week to write, but you'll see them on the following thursday. Also, after this arc is done, I'm going to devote my time to another fic: Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: E. After two or three chapters, I'll come back to this for two more arcs, and do two or three chapters of E or another I may think of in the meantime. On to power levels: yes, Nicholas is Level seventy, and Will is Level twenty-nine._

 _Anyways, about reviews. I'm writing this fanfiction specifically to improve my writing and storytelling skills. As it is, my reviews are friendly and supportive. This cannot continue! I need constructive criticism! I need my errors pointed out so I may correct them, and never make them again, glaring or infinitesimal! That's all, and thanks!_


	8. Just a Peek

_Affable: It's done, okay?! It's still Thursday, my computer barely works, so as far as I'm concerned, it counts! You got a problem, you can kiss the... the... *huff* *puff*_

 _Rattles:_...

 _A: ...right, sorry, I'm just a bit stressed. I'm on, like, two hours of sleep and everything I could find in my house short of drain cleaner and ink cartridges. On to the review:_

 **AlliyahThe Author: _Glad you like him! Let me tell you, he's very fun to write. And don't worry about it, just tell me when you see any errors or especially noticeable flaws. And see you on chapter 9!_**

 _By the way, Rattlebones's theme is Skeletor's Theme. The stranger's_ current _theme is Distortion World from Pokémon_ _Platinum. And when the appropriate moment comes, play Dogsong from the Undertale OST. I have nothing else to say except that next chapter's gonna be in the following thursday. Anything to add, Rattles?_

 _R:_ (Is bawling in a corner)

 _A: Oh right, that... Enjoy, everybody._

* * *

 **Deep within the Wizard City sewer system…**

 _Squelch. Squelch. Squelch._ Worn boots waded though the ankle-deep sludge, nearly getting sucked into the muck with each step.

 _Chink. Chink. Chink._ Rusted metal loops, amateurishly sewed onto a stained leather jerkin, clinked together sadly, as if lamenting their sorry state.

 _Rattle. Rattle. Rattle._ Mismatched ribs, robbed from a dozen separate battlefields, clattered against each other noisily and, as the skulker would complain to anyone within earshot in the past, quite painfully.

Plodding along the twisted pathways, Rattlebones finally saw the dull orange lights that illuminated his current workshop. Picking up the pace, though not enough so that the sludge underfoot would get into his boots, he made it to the large slab of metal his "lab" was constructed on. It was a complete mess; beakers and cylinders filled with smoking technicolor liquids were massed on rickety wooden tables and stools, and there were scorch marks the skeleton hadn't cleaned off where cauldrons filled with unattended ingredients exploded. As he rolled his remaining eye, cursing the job in front of him, Rattlebones only just glimpsed one of his Shadows phase through the far wall. The eight foot tall apparition drifted to the center of the workshop, and waited for its creator's commands.

Not for the first time, Rattlebones silently thanked the heavens for the one experiment that actually worked as intended. The Shadows were versatile, powerful, deathly silent, and, most importantly, _there_. Everything else he made—from the old but gold Dark Fairies, to the far more powerful Fir Darrig—hadn't listened to a single command he issued, their responses ranging from mocking laughter to lashes from whips of fire. The Shadows were, in essence, Lost Souls: the long dead spirits of regular, non-magical beings, lacking voices or even true sentience. Capturing them was laughably easy; his energy traps attracted Lost Souls by the dozens, and ensnared them without a problem. From there it was simply a matter of exposing them to enough malevolent energy of the preferred School and a dark ritual or two. The specter in front of him was coal black, the gaslights making it appear that the figure wore robes crafted of smoke; a Death Shadow, one of his personal favorites.

Rattlebones picked his way through the cluttered lab, saving a flask from falling off one table and reducing the heat on a specific brew on another, until he was face-to-face (well, face-to-torso) with his creation. "Report," he said, steeling himself for the impending onslaught. The Shadow bent in on itself, until its head nearly touched the skeleton's. For a moment, nothing happened, and Rattlebones briefly wondered if the shade had nothing to report, before a heavy, languid cacophony rushed into his head; the Shadow, being unable to speak, had simply transferred the memories of the past few hours into its creator's mind. Rattlebones had the unfortunate experience of knowing both that he was fighting his way out of a sinkhole trap just ten minutes prior, and at the same time only very nearly avoiding getting torn apart by an explosive wave of magical force, a stroke of luck that the majority of its brethren didn't have. With some effort, he ordered the thoughts, analyzing the potentially disastrous development. He wasn't able to sense energy, a design flaw all but a few Undead shared, so he didn't know about this force at all before the Shadow "told" him. From the memories, he recognized its source as human, most likely a Wizard, but the situation had simply been too chaotic to glean any more information. Also troubling was the fact that most of his Shadows were destroyed. He could always make more, of course, but the ease at which the Wizard obliterated them was astounding, and more than a little disconcerting. _If they're here for me_ , he thought nervously, _I'll need even stronger wards to hide this place. That means I'll have to ask…_ them _._ He shuddered involuntarily. _Okay, Rattlebones, there's no need to panic. They're usually not that bad. I'll just contact them, and they'll… wait. How do I contact them?_

The skeleton frantically searched though his mind for the rather intricate ritual, even as he pulled a lump of pulsing coal out of a sparkling cerise potion, inspected it, and carefully lowered it into a forest green draught. _Nothing! It's like it was spirited away by…_ them _._ He knew it was true the moment he realized it. He "stomped" around his workshop, hard enough to make a satisfying _clang_ against the metal floor, but not enough to disturb the volatile contents of his workshop.

"They think they can just use me to further their own agenda, and bail out when they've got everything they need?! Well I've got news for you, pal! Rattlebones is no one's servant, or their fool!" He was getting into it, gaze and finger pointed toward the ceiling as if exulting to the sky. "I'll track you down, you hear me?! I'll find you, and then I'll—"

"Really, there's no need for shouting, Rattles. I'm **always** at your beck and call." He whirled around, jumping back from the figure before him, bathed in the shadows left by his gas lamps. "Y-y-y-y-y-you! Y-y-you're here! W-what a p-p-pleasant surp-p-prise."

The figure rolled their eyes and said matter-of-factly, "Do save the forced formalities for a more appropriate situation." They brushed something like dust off their shoulder, and stepped into the light.

At first, in his fear, Rattlebones could only register bits and pieces of information about the figure in front of him: a jet-black cloak with silver accents; white skin and hair; flashing red eyes; a grin full of silver fangs, snapped together like a bear trap. He shook his head, and looked at the figure again, calm enough to see the whole picture. Standing in front of him was a… girl? A boy? He wasn't sure. On one hand, their figure certainly _looked_ boyish, if slender, but on the other hand…

"Rattles, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to deal with the cauldron next to you? I'm not an alchemist, but I'm sure that potion isn't supposed to be SPARKING." If nothing else, they sounded like a normal teenage girl. It was, to say the least, unnerving. It wasn't as if it was _terribly_ out of place, though. They appeared young enough that their voice, even if they _were_ a boy, fit them. The potion next to him burst into flames, so he pulled out a small bottle of graveyard dirt, the final ingredient, and stirred it in. The flames turned purple, then green, and finally as clear as crystal before sinking back into the potion. He moved it off the fire to allow it to cool, and turned back to the visibly impatient androgyne.

"What do you want, Rattles?" Their voice was even, but the smile was gone; they wanted this over and done with just as much as Rattles—RattleBONES—did.

"There's a Wizard here. I think they're searching for me. I need the wards strengthened."

"I still don't understand the secrecy. I mean, you have _those,_ "they said, looking pointedly at the objects in the corner of the workshop: two large pods made of metal and glass, in which two indistinct forms lied in stasis. Rattlebones shook his head immediately. "They aren't stable yet. It's too risky to rely on them." _That, and the fact that they may just kill me if they find my plans not to their liking._ He always did have the worst luck with servants. "So will you ward the place for me or not?"

They pursed their lips, thinking. "I suppose I can," they began cautiously, "but I need to check how strong this Wizard is, first." They looked up, as if to concentrate on feeling out their target's exact power level. After a few seconds, they nodded to themself and went to each corner of the room, muttering incantations laden with intent. In the meantime, Rattlebones began bottling and corking the potion, being careful not to let a drop of the charged brew so much as touch him. Lifting one of the flasks to the light, he watched the potion's swirling bolt of lightning for any sign of dissipation. He turned back to his… visitor, as they completed their warding. "There you go," they said with a smug grin. "No matter what that Wizard of yours does, they won't be able to find this lab; magically, anyway. Is there anything else?"

"No, nothing. Er, thank you…?" Rattlebones said, trying to draw out a name or title. But they only chuckled, fangs glinting in the light. "Like I said before, Rattles, no names on my end. Potions?" Biting back a grumble, he gave half of the sparking potions to them, as well as several other types. They tucked the potions away in their cloak. "Consider the warding my payment this week," they said simply, and before Rattlebones could argue the point, the world seemed to unfocus for an instant, as if he crossed his eyes slightly (back when he had two, of course), and it refocused a fraction of a second later, with his cheapskate benefactor gone. Staring at the place they stood just a moment before, Rattlebones felt a deep annoyance, even as a cauldron in the back erupted a storm of small, yapping dogs.

He faced the noisy mob snarling, in absolutely no mood, only to be swamped by the furry white avalanche. "Hey! Ow! Gerroutofit, you mutts!" he managed to say before a rather fat dog opted to lie down on his face, muffling his words. After a minute of blindly trying to keep the dogs from gnawing on him, he finally fought his way free, only to have his forearm wrought off by a particularly determined dog, who then ran off into the sewer main. He chased after it, cursing furiously all the while.


	9. Violence and Cartoonish Insanity

_Affable: Howdy! I'm back and I'm completely screwed! I only just managed to complete this in time for upload. Four things in short order:_

 _The Fir Darrig's theme is_ Team Rocket Encounter!(Radio Tower Takeover) _from Pokémon HeartGold and SoulSilver._

 _Chrome's theme is Professor Rowan's Laboratory, from Pokémon Diamond/Pearl/Platinum._

 _Will's theme is Rocketeer by Far East Movement._

 _Author's note's theme is March of the Toreadors (May not be entirely serious (okay, maybe I am (ok, I'm not (yeah i am))))_

 _Not much else to say here, except that Nicole doesn't have a theme yet, which worries me, and that if you think you have a better theme for these characters, go ahead and tell me in your review. Rattles is still... rattled. So he may not show up for the rest of the arc. Now then, enjoy!_

* * *

 **Meanwhile, back at the** _ **Plot**_ **…**

Marcas was doing his best to keep his fear in check: when he was afraid he got angry, when he got angry he lashed out, and if he lashed out here he would die. _Wizards,_ he grumbled inwardly, _why did it have to be Wizards?_ He paused, and then shook his head. _No,_ he corrected himself, _why did it have to be_ IceFlame _?_ In the loose circle the intruders and defenders made after introductions and explanations were provided, the Wizard in question was standing across from him unassumingly, allowing the Dark Fairy to cobble out the details of the upcoming battle with Anathema, leaving the stronger contenders to size each other up… at first anyway. Marcas was the only one doing so, IceFlame having lost interest after a few seconds. He now seemed to be having a staring match with the Maze's guardian. After giving himself a few moments to reign in his indignation, Marcas forced out a small cough, trying to bring the Wizard back to the matter at hand, to no avail; his focus would have been almost impressive, had it been applied to nearly any other activity. As it was, Marcas was having trouble keeping his blade sheathed; though the thought of hacking at the arrogant mage was compelling, the idea of the "attention" he'd more than likely receive was an adequate deterrent.

"IceFlame," he said, keeping his tone neutral. "I believe that our friends are done with their discussion." Indeed, the odd pair made their way towards them, the kid giving his subordinate a sidelong glance. The Wizard blinked slowly, bowed to the angel, who nodded in response, and turned to watch the two approach them. Scarecrow and Dark Fairy continued together until roughly three yards away, where they broke away from each other and went to the side of their respective teams. Anathema spoke first, her usual animated cadences missing in her apparent boredom: "We can do this in Unicorn Park. All of us, except Dean and Abraxus, _obviously_ , are going to pair off against each other like so: Marcas and Will, Nicholas and myself, Carbuncle and Nicole, and Phil and Chrome. Matches are decided either by surrender or a knockout lasting at least one minute. No one can interfere with anyone else's match, and no one can kill their opponent. _Or_ maim them unnecessarily," she finished with a dismissive shrug, drawing a small frown from her fellow negotiator.

"Afterwards," Nicole continued, "the winners have a free-for-all, and the overall winner decides what happens next. Of course, we aren't going to have everyone go through all of this for nothing, so the winner also gets a mystery prize, provided by either me if any of the Fir Darrig win, or Annie if it's one of us. Is that acceptable to everyone?"

Everyone nodded in agreement, though the Fir Darrig's assent seemed subdued, almost. Marcas, in particular, was quiet, his rage ignored in favor of quick analysis of the situation. _Why the hell is Annie taking on IceFlame? I'm supposed to do that! I'm not supposed to fight the_ weak _Wizard! What the hell is she thinking? If she wants to protect my ego, she's doing a pretty shitty job of it!_

The gaggle of fighters made their way to Unicorn Park, a small, tranquil area which found its main purpose as a picnicking spot for both locals and visitors. _Aw, how peaceful,_ Marcas thought, inspecting the ground for any signs of traps. _It's sad, really. If this battle's anything like the ones I've been in, piss and blood are gonna get EVERYWHERE._ There was nothing for it, though; there was simply nowhere else big enough to hold the battle. With Dean acting as a sort of referee, the fighters paired off and, on his signal, began to fight.

A pitched battle was always preferable to a standard Duel, in Marcas's opinion. Despite the notable drawbacks of not having Pips to rely on, meaning twice as much mana was needed to cast any particular spell, _and_ the fact that spell cards weren't usable in that setting,there were enough positives to make up for it: being able to move around and _dodge_ attacks; wards, charms and the like weren't so easily telegraphed; inventive use of spells was not only allowed, but encouraged; you could attack any time you were ready, battles not having any official rules or timer. For the most part, though, battles were extremely chaotic and, lacking the magic circle Duels used to retain magical energy, incredibly hazardous to bystanders. So of course, Dueling took precedence in most populated Worlds, with only the more primitive or martial societies putting battles like these front and center.

Two of the matches were decided relatively quickly: Anathema , catching Nicholas yawning, rushed him immediately, only for him to knock her head clean off her shoulders with a perfect check hook, and spend the next few minutes searching for it; and Chrome managed to almost completely encase Phil in ice, save for his head, and promptly passed out from the strain, leaving him the winner by default, and leaving Abraxus to chip him out with his broken shovel.

Dodging another bolt of silver energy from Will, the Fir Darrig had to admit that in an actual Duel, he would not have lasted as long as he had. Drawing his sword, he ducked under another bolt and weaved around two more before swinging upwards, aiming at his opponent's thigh. Will managed to put his staff in his sword's path, making it jar painfully against the enchanted ebony, not even leaving a scratch. Cursing at his carelessness, he parried four potentially painful blows, before being knocked back by a jab to the chest. Wheezing, he gripped the flat of his blade, charging it with storm energy. With a quick pull, he surrounded the blade with a purple aura in the shape of a leaf-bladed sword nearly twice the size. Pushing off, he rushed the young Wizard, readying a thrust; while not a cutting tool, the Stormblade was hugely painful, perhaps enough to put the sorcerer out of the fight. His wishful thinking was answered by Will tapping the flat smartly with his staff, driving it to the left, and, bowing, touching the blade with the "beak" of his hood, making it burst into wisps of energy. Leaping forward, the Fir Darrig managed to dodge a deceptively casual swipe, only to be floored by a searing bolt to the back.

Pushing himself onto his hands and knees, he fumed silently as he heard the Wizard walk toward him silently, no doubt to knock him out with a simple blow to the back of the head. He waited until he felt the bigger fighter stop a foot away, and in one smooth motion, did a handstand and pushed off the ground, clearing the surprised would-be victor's head easily and landing some three yards away. _Shit!_ He thought wildly, as Will shifted into a defensive position, _Close quarters won't cut it. He's got reach on his side, and his staff's sturdier than I gave it credit for. Gotta try to pile on the hits from a distance._

He was wrenched from his ruminations by a flash of yellow light accompanied by a number of resonating _booms_. He and Will both dropped their stances and watched the source of the commotion: Carbuncle and Nicole's fight was at its climax, with each Fire specialist battering the other with energy-intensive barrages of fireballs, with some inventive variation swinging the pitched battle in one's favor only for an instant before the lead was erased by the other's quick thinking. Though both fighters were certainly enthusiastic, their attacks were relatively weak, conjured bolts of flame flickering more and more as the battle progressed, no doubt due to the youths' flagging endurance.

It seemed that the two gained their second wind simultaneously, however, and were now hurling their most powerful attacks at each other: Carbuncle managed to pull out his Quickdraw bow, and was even now firing explosive bolts of magical energy at the Dark Fairy flying through the air, who effortlessly avoided each barrage he let out; on her end, in each lull in Carbuncle's assault (to prevent the overheating of his bow) she formed a small meteor in her hand and threw it at him, only for the Fire Elf to leap away from the flaming projectile with a laugh. The battle was dead even until their mana was completely drained; Nicole ran out first, her aerial gymnastics draining her faster than her rather conservative attacks ever could. She managed to roll when she hit the ground, sparing her the worst of the impact but still earning a few bruises. Carbuncle launched himself at her, too tired to use the bow again, but readying a jab; he wanted to end the fight before his wily opponent could mount a proper defense. She rolled away though, and lashed out with a kick, which he blocked with his bow. After trading a few more blows, they broke apart, breathing hard, only to rush each other again a moment later.

Marcas was equal parts impressed and concerned by what he saw. _Carbuncle's really improved since the last battle we all had_ , he thought to himself. O _f course, nothing's decided just yet, though it's clear that he has the edge over the kid._ And indeed he did; Carbuncle's time in the Fir Darrig had earned him a noticeable increase in close quarters combat skill, and Nicole, despite starting off slightly stronger, was quickly being overwhelmed. Marcas found catharsis at the thought of her inevitable loss; not only was the kid's presence an impossibility to know of in advance, her defeat of both his second-in-command and tactician worried him.

He, along with everyone else, watched the Fire Elf launch a salvo of flares at his opponent, only for her to form an unstable firewall they met and were subsequently absorbed into harmlessly. Letting it die out, she rocketed toward the exhausted Fir Darrig, kneeing him in the chest and, as he staggered away, peppering him with numerous fire bullets that were barely hot enough to be called embers, but were nonetheless powerful enough to knock down their battered target. Rolling upon impact, he got on one knee and fired a somewhat different energy bolt: purple instead of orange, and when Nicole tried to fly over it, immediately changed its course to meet her. She dodged again, and the game of cat-and-mouse continued until the inexorable arrow finally struck her in the gut, unleashing a torrent of electricity. She flailed in the air for a few seconds, only falling when the arrow finally dissipated, hitting the ground with a light _thump_.

"Had… enough?" Carbuncle said wearily; his already meager reserves had finally run dry, it seemed. Dean came forward to check on the downed Dark Fairy, and start the countdown.

Will cracked his neck, making Marcas flinch and snap back to attention. "Well that was fun, but it looks like your friend there managed to pull off a win."

Marcas flashed his usual grin at the sorcerer, hiding his earlier unease. "Of course, it was a given. He wouldn't be one of my top soldiers if he could be beaten by some windswept Dark Fairy from who-knows-where."

Will nodded, though he seemed a bit subdued; it was obvious that he was rooting for his new friend. "That last shot, " he asked, "was notably different from anything else he fired in the fight. Storm magic, which is your School, and it tracks the opponent, a trait that would've suited him well much earlier. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say you taught him that."

Marcas grinned wider, though inwardly he was a bit perturbed at how easily the Wizard arrived at the truth. _Well, it's not like it's supposed to be a secret_ , he reasoned, _and besides, it doesn't take a genius to figure it out by any means._ "Right you are. I taught all my elites at least one move with properties they couldn't develop on their own; the prime example being Carbuncle's Tracker Jacker."

Will seemed confused. "Elites?" he asked. "What, you have—"

"You can do this Nicole!"

"Don't give up!"

The two were jolted by Nicholas and the recently awakened Chrome, who was shouting their support for the now shakily standing Nicole, who managed to get up before Dean's knockout announcement.

"Oh, come on!" Marcas cried, exasperated. "Do you have to drop a bridge on her to knock her down for good?!" Will shushed him, straining to hear the Dark Fairy's next words: "As a matter of fact… I haven't. How's about you try it again?"

Carbuncle growled impotently, caught between anger and, Marcas noticed with some irritation, the beginnings of panic. "Well?" he called to his scout, making him flinch and look to him apprehensively. "Are you going to keep her waiting, or are you going to give her what she asked for?" Carbuncle shook his head, as if to clear it, and turned back to his opponent, resolute. He began charging an even stronger Tracker Jacker, sweating from the strain. Nicole was poised to kick off, her wings stiff with tension, ready to fly at a moment's notice. The Fire Elf pointed his crystal-clear bow at her, a magenta orb sparking into existence in the hole in the middle. Grabbing it lightly between his thumb and index finger, he drew it back, stretching it into a familiar arrow shape, aiming right at the Dark Fairy. Her cheering section immediately changed their tune at the sight of the far stronger attack:

"You can't do this Nicole!"

"Give up!"

Flashing an annoyed glare at the duo, she said, "Thank you _so_ much for your support, you guys. I'm almost over _whelmed_ by your faith in me to win. Thank you."

Chrome had the decency to fake shame and look away, but Nicholas only crossed his arms, adamant. "Stow the sarcasm. You're about a dozen levels away from being able to tank THAT." He glared pointedly at the Tracker Jacker, already nearly twice the size of the previous one, and still growing. "You know it, I know it, even that Phil guy knows it, and he's twenty feet away and frozen. Just bow out now, and I can get rid of these guys that much quicker." She waved him off, focusing on the magic missile as it let out a harsh buzz, ready to be fired at last. "Last chance, lady!" Carbuncle shouted over the noise of his attack. "Give up or I fire!" The Tracker Jacker, not designed for the level of overcharge Carbuncle forced it into, let off a burst of sparks in her direction, making her jump back in alarm. Marcas could see worry and unease cloud her expression. _Good. This makes my job that much easier_. One big part of his job (and a job it was, though some duties were tackled in a more lackadaisical manner than others) was making predictions: potential enemy hideouts to line with listening and seeing charms; new routes for supply lines that the rebels wouldn't predict themselves; the next move of the opponent in order to enact a countermeasure; all this and more was on Marcas to predict in order to keep his hold on Wizard City, and he did it well. _The others_ wish _they could run a ship this tight._ Of course, no one could predict the events of today; after all, his initial raid was interrupted, he was cursed, two of his elite squad were defeated, _Wizards_ were involved, and now they were taking part in **this** fiasco.

 _That damn kid is to blame. She's the_ one _variable I couldn't see, and I know the others wouldn't have, either. Won't stop_ them _from giving me shit if they hear about this. So, they won't. This—Nicole? Nicki? Whatever—will either give up, or fight, get Jacked, and lose. Everything gets decided in the next few seconds either way._ The Fairy chimed in, seeing an opportunity:

"Nicole, we are _serious_! I know you have some sort of plan, and I know these things have a habit of sorting themselves out, but that thing's going to be your _death_ if it hits you!"

"Normally I'd be all for letting this happen," Anathema said, surprising her teammates, "but the Girl Scout's right; Carbuncle can't kill the Tracker Jacker at this stage, and you couldn't tank it at _any_ stage. Give up now so we can move this along." Carbuncle started at her words, then flinched at the Jacker's rumbling; it was quickly becoming too unstable to hold for long. "What'm I supposed to do with this!?" he wailed.

"Just fire at a cloud or something, idiot!" she fired back at him.

"But there aren't any clouds!"

"Sucks to be you, then!"

Ignoring Chrome's outburst ("Damn it, why are _you_ calling me that!?"), Marcas saw a strange light spark in Nicole's eyes, and she straightened up. "Chrome," she said, "you're right."

The Fairy blinked. "I… am? G-good! Carbuncle, you can just shoot one of the buildings—"

"These things _do_ sort themselves out, don't they?"

"… _Nicole_."

"Listen: if I fight, he's going to fire his Japer—"

"Jacker!"

"—Jacker at me. And I'm pretty sure he put everything he had into it, so if I dodge it, I'll have already won it!"

"Nicole, that is retarded. You couldn't even dodge the last one!"

"Come on, Chrome! I've lasted this long already! I gotta see this through to the end!"

"I can't believe we're having this conversation."

"Neither can I."

" CAN I FIRE NOW?!" Carbuncle screamed, his entire body vibrating.

Nicole lifted off the ground and zoomed off, grinning maniacally. "Go ahead!"

Carbuncle finally let loose the Tracker Jacker, now the size of a standard Moonstrider spear. Oddly, as large as it was, it was only slightly faster than before, though still fast enough to overtake Nicole's initial head start within the first few seconds of their chase. _It's over,_ Marcas thought smugly, before Nicole banked a sharp left, leaving the Jacker barreling forward for a second before training its course on her again. "What?!"

They continued like that for a time: the Jacker's superior speed allowed it catch up to the Dark Fairy with ease, only for her to make a sharp turn that it simply couldn't perform in kind, making it skid uncontrollably in an attempt to realign with her new trajectory, spitting sparks all the while. "What the hell is wrong with it?!" he asked, more to himself than anything.

"It's too big." Marcas looked over at Will in bewilderment.

"What?"

"It's too big," he repeated simply. "You didn't account for this level of overcharge when you made this attack, did you? That's the problem: it's as fast as ever, but it can't correct its course as easily as Nicole does when it comes to sharp turns."

He turned back to the spectacle with ever-increasing fury. "Well that's just great. Just fan-tucking-fastic."

Will sighed, drawing Marcas's attention back to him. "It's a good strategy, but it'll only keep it at bay until she gets too tired to fly, at which point she'll be a sitting duck. Hopefully the rest of her plan comes into play before then."

The Tracker Jacker scored a deep groove into the ground, leaving a sheen of spotted glass behind as it followed Nicole's new path: directly toward Carbuncle.

"Are you for real? That's not gonna work, moron! It tracks your _magic_ signature, not your _heat_ signature!" Carbuncle was grinning widely; he knew that Nicole only had seconds before she ran out of energy to fly, leaving her an easy mark for the Tracker Jacker to pick off.

"Well… I suppose this is the best she could do, given the circumstances," Will posited diplomatically. "Being chased by a mad firework tends to derail people's train of thought."

"This is just beyond stupid. This is AP Dumbassery right here," Marcas replied with glee. They watched as she zoomed toward the Fire Elf, who was jeering at her "plan".

"The kid never had a chance," Nicholas intoned solemnly.

Chrome stamped her foot, incensed. "Damn it! Why does she never _listen_ —"

"She's not the one he's talking about."

She turned to Anathema, who had spoke. "What—"

 _ **CRUNCH**_. Nicole's fist connected with Carbuncle's prominent jaw, breaking it and sending him reeling to the ground, unconscious. The Tracker Jacker, reliant on the Fire Elf's constant focus to retain its form, dissipated. Dean checked him over, and after a minute, he finally said, "The boy's out! Nicole wins!" He then began to heal his downed teammate, while Marcas did his best not to snap his sword in rage. _She faked him out! She faked_ _ **me**_ _out! That's it! I am done messing around! I'm making it through to the next round if it's the—_

"I'm out." He started, at looked back at his opponent…or rather, his _former_ opponent. "Wha…"

"I'm out," Will repeated with a shrug. "I can see that the two of you really want to fight each other, so I'd really be more useful cheering from the sidelines than waylaying Phil with the Nicks." He didn't flinch as a flame bullet flew past his head.

"With that in mind," Dean said, hoping to diffuse the tension, "let's break off to our respective factions to discuss events and plan. We'll regroup in an hour."

* * *

 _A: Once in a While, I fear I may have too many characters in this scene, or maybe this whole fic... oh well. See you next week!_


	10. Battle Under a Seashell Sky

_Affable: Jeez, what is there to say? I just began my Spring Hiatus, and here I am releasing this thing._

 _Rattles:_ What is this anyway? Are you just blobbing your chapters together?

 _A: *Gasp* RATTLES! You're finally here! That's so great-_

 _R:_ Come any closer and I'll stab you!

 _A: Okay, sheesh. In any case, this is just several chapters condensed into a more digestible format: a three part Chapter 10!_

 _R:_ Okay, that's all well and good, but won't people get confused by the way the story got completely shuffled around? And what if they preferred the way it was before?

 _A: Okay, okay, you have a point. But if they rather I change it back to the old style, they can review and say so!_

 _R:_ Or you could set up a poll-

 _A: Chapter 10 Part 1: Battle Under a Seashell Sky! Start!_

* * *

The team was sitting in a loose mob in the Park proper, next to the river. Animated chatter concerning the battles was prevalent before a call to order was issued by the leader. "The first thing we should do is target the kid and knock her out from the get-go. That way, we can focus all of our firepower on IceFlame without worrying about some sort of sneak attack." Marcas had had enough of Nicole's antics, and wasn't going to suffer through a loss because he underestimated her again. A chorus of "yes"s from the gathered Fir Darrig sealed the deal, followed by an admittedly pertinent question, from Dean of all people: "But what about IceFlame? Like Abraxus said, he's a Master Wizard; are you sure you two can beat him?"

"Trust me, if he's anything like the Wizards from before, his defenses won't hold up under sustained fire."

"I have a question," Phil said, hand raised.

"Shoot, Freezy-pop."

"Actually, I-It's Phil—"

"My god, I was joking. Lighten up a little, won't ya?"

"…"

"Anyway, question?"

"Yeah, um, who _is_ IceFlame? H-hold on a second!" Phil cried, as his compatriots groaned. "I just mean, like, _who_ is he? And how do you know him?"

Marcas inspected a scar on the back of his hand, weighing just how much to tell the new conscript. _Not much time. Better keep it brief._ "You ever heard of Malistaire Drake?"

"Sheesh, who hasn't? The guy ripped through half the Spiral in, like, half a decade or something for some reason. And now he's disappeared or in hiding or whatever. Why?"

"Not sure if anyone knows _why_ he did what he did, and not many more than that know exactly _what_ he was doing, either, but I know for a fact that he's dead. And IceFlame killed him." The group erupted in exclamations of shock and dismay; if nothing else, everyone knew that Malistaire was, if not the most powerful, certainly the most skilled Duelist in the known Spiral. To be not only defeated, but slain, would place his victor in a league away from the Fir Darrig by an order of ten. Only Abraxus remained suspiciously silent, a fact not overlooked by Anathema. Gliding smoothly in front of him, she crossed her arms (as much as she could manage to, anyway) and glared at the Ghoul, the latter not reacting one way or the other, merely meeting her gaze calmly.

"You knew." It wasn't a question, but Abraxus grunted his confirmation regardless. She turned to Marcas, eyes flaring. "So is there anyone else you decided to tell before the rest of your team? Like a mailman, or your barber—"

"I don't have a barber-"

"Or maybe the thunder of dragons that weave through the alleyways at night?!"

"I don't understand why this is a big deal."

" _Because you didn't tell any of us, Marcas!_ We didn't even know this guy _existed_ until he freaking exploded into the damn street! How long did YOU know about him, huh?!" Cracker croaked in agreement, one beady eye turned on him.

 _So not the_ exact _truth, but…_ "About eight months now, _but_ —"

" _But_?! There is no _but_ , Marcas! You were sitting on this for EIGHT GODDAMN MONTHS! How do you justify that!?"

"Because I didn't have any reason to tell anyone, _Annie_! He didn't even know who we were before today! He only ever came here because the OTHER Wizard asked him to!" He rubbed his temples, trying to maintain his grip on his temper, and continuing when he regained his cool. "Why would I put my _entire_ operation at risk by keeping a potential threat a secret from my elite warriors? He's a recluse who hasn't left his home once in the past six months."

Annie was still glaring at him, but the flames in her eyes dimmed and she backed up slightly. A sigh of relief escaped the rest of the assembled fighters barring, of course, Abraxus, who only smiled thinly. "Then why tell _him_?" she asked bitingly, waving an arm at the Ghoul.

"I didn't. _He_ told _me_. Before he lost his voice, he used to be a fighter in the Grand Arena, where IceFlame is Champion. Well, _was_ Champion; I have no idea who it is now. I can maybe ask the Spider if she knows. You know, if she hasn't outlawed it yet."

"…Oh." That was as much of an apology as she was going to make at the moment, and both of the accused welcomed it as such.

"Yeah, "oh". Look, IceFlame and the other one are coming now, so let's leave this until this whole mess is dealt with. In the meantime, deal with those idiots in Triton Avenue; it shouldn't take you more than an hour, so I'll see you back at base when this is done. Let's roll." Not waiting for an answer, he walked toward the street, Phil following him after a moment of confusion.

They walked along without a word, until Phil broke the silence:

"Do you really think we can beat him?"

"Ye."

"Despite knowing how much stronger he is than us?"

"Ye."

"How?"

"The moves make the man. Or the victor, in this case."

"What move do you have that can beat him?"

"A combination of moves, actually, but a combination that he'll have never seen before. What about you? You have any extra-special spell that can turn the tide in a fight?"

"I was only here for three days before we got sucked into this."

"Holy crap, you were with us for three days and we _still_ didn't know your name? You have absolutely no presence."

"Yeah, don't remind me…"

The duo made it to the middle of the street, an area roughly fifteen feet across and relatively clear of the mounds of rubble that choked the rest of the Way. The two heard the sound of laughter coming closer; their opponents were in high spirits, it seemed.

"Remember, the kid first, and then we pile it on the Wizard," Marcas said to his partner, as they watched the aforementioned pair round the corner.

"R-right..."

He clapped the nervous Bunny on the shoulder. "We're gonna be fine, okay? Trust me." He smiled good-naturedly, as Phil relaxed somewhat.

"O-okay."

* * *

 _ **At Around The Same Time**_ **…**

"Oh god, I'm so nauseous. Couldn't you have healed me up a little smoother, Chrome?" The healing wasn't painful by any means—that would be sort of counterproductive—but there something about seeing charred skin burst into blooms of new silver flesh as if in slow-motion and cuts painstakingly seam themselves smoothly back together that was almost trippy.

Chrome didn't answer until she took a small wooden cup from a Pixie and had a sip, eyebrow raised all the while. "I sacrificed comfort for thoroughness; you're going to need it, if you'll remember. It'll pass in a bit, don't worry. In the meantime, have a drink—they aren't alcoholic, Will, so stop gulping them down like that—and let's think of a plan _together_ this time, okay?" I could swear to god she did it on purpose to get back at me; for what, I didn't know, but I could only guess that it had to do with _how_ I won; without adrenaline coursing through me I realized just how lucky I was that Carbuncle was my opponent instead of any of the other, older Fir Darrig. Either they wouldn't have the patience to see what I was going to do, and simply blast me point-blank, or else my punch wouldn't have knocked them out. I could see Chrome's frustration: if I kept this type of decision-making up, I probably wouldn't live long enough to regret it. Of course, I had this vein of thought before, well before my gamble, and I clear forgot it the moment a fight began to catch my attention. _I really ought to fix that,_ I thought, and then grimaced; I had _that_ thought before, too.

I looked around the Hedge Maze; we retreated there to heal and plan our next move. "Not that there's much to plan out, in any case."

"I wouldn't say that," Nicholas said, startling me; I didn't realize that I said that out loud. "We'll need a strategy to up our effectiveness in this battle. But that, I think, can come later. For now, unwinding for a few minutes to get our minds back to base is the best course of action." He took off his hat and lied down, placing it on his face to block out the light. Will, sitting next to his mentor in a half-lotus position, sighed disappointedly at the small cup in his hand and said, "I don't see why you had to get my hopes up, though; I mean, why even serve water in shot glasses?"

"These cups are made of wood, not glass," Chrome retorted. "And they're made for Fae hands, as you clearly failed to notice." Will looked at the cup nestled snugly in Chrome's hands. "…Huh."

"I always ignore him when he's like this," Nicholas said, his voice slightly muffled by his hat. "Anytime he's focused on something, he's blind to even the most obvious clues until he puzzles the first thing out."

"Oh, so you have a question?" Chrome asked the Sorcerer, who had pulled off his hood and was now raking his fingers through his azure hair, trying to fashion it into something more to his liking than its current, decidedly nondescript style. After fussing with it until it half looked like an actual bird's nest, he patted it back into place resignedly before answering the question. "Not much of a question, but when we all first met, you got Nick's name first try. How'd you guess?"

Chrome leaned back as far as was safe; sitting on the path as we were, she didn't exactly have anything to support her. "Honestly," she began, "I wouldn't have picked up on it if it hadn't been for Nicole."

I blinked, completely at a loss for any example that could have led to "Nick". She saw my confusion, and added in a small voice, "You said it at one point back when I was healing you the first time."

THAT… was even more confusing. "So I already knew the name? And I'm the one who gave it to you, only for you to "trigger" _me_ later? How… what even… ugh. Amnesia is just… so, so dumb, you guys."

Nicholas sat up, gaze intent as it bored into mine. "Amnesia? I didn't hear about that."

I shrugged, a bit nonplussed at the realization that I forgot to tell him that part. _There are an awful lot of realizations today, huh?_ "Well you can hear about it now." I told him the highlights of the start of my day (though really at that point it was heading into the afternoon). Lips pursed in thought, he said, "How do you feel? You _seem_ okay, but it certainly couldn't have been easy, waking up and discovering that that's as far back as you can remember."

I shrugged. "No real reason for me to get all that broken up about it. After all, it's all I've ever known."

* * *

After lying on the ground for another minute or so, he said, "I can give you some insight about that dream you had, though."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I can almost guarantee that that voice belonged to Rattlebones. It makes sense, considering he made you."

"Hmmp… so why'd he scream at the end?"

Chrome piped up then. "Most likely because you attacked him; I mean, it wouldn't be an especially _novel_ scenario. Rattlebones was always making these stronger and stronger monsters, only for them to turn on him, either because they were mentally unstable, still had their memories and wanted revenge, or because they just didn't like him." She shrugged. "Anyway, you two really _should_ start strategizing now. Verdant?" The Pixie from earlier dutifully began collecting cups (she needed to call another Pixie to help carry all of Will's).

"We'll take these back to the storeroom, no worries, but, um, we also need some grass seed."

Chrome scrunched her nose in confusion. "North Storeroom, like all the other gardening items. The key's in the lock. I thought the cannonball landed in a hedge; why would you need grass seed?"

Verdant shrugged, lifting off the ground slightly. "It did, but there's a burned patch of grass clear on the other side of the Maze! None of us have any idea what made it, 'cause whatever it was, it's not there now. Well, we're off. Good luck in your fight!" They flitted off, leaving Will and Chrome staring at me knowingly. My face began to burn, which sparked comments from the peanut gallery:

"Um, your face is turning gray. Is that normal?"

"Methinks she's blushing." The two chuckled good-naturedly, with Chrome sobering up first. In any case, do either of you have a strategy, or are we going to cobble one out in the next—" she checked a nearby sundial "—five minutes?"

I raised my hand. "I've got one."

Nicholas sat up, rolling out a crick in his neck. "Then by all means, shoot."

"I have a specific technique that may be a little hard to grasp at first, but that I'm sure you'll take to admirably; it's called "beat the other guy senseless"."

Will snickered into his hand, as Chrome immediately voiced her disapproval: "Okay, so clearly you're a poisoned well of knowledge, so—" she was cut off as Nicholas hopped to his feet.

"Bitchin', let's do it," he said, causing Will to laugh out loud and Chrome to start sputtering incoherently: "Wha—you jus—I—just—" She finally put her head in her hands to muffle a scream born of sheer incredulity of the situation. I patted her shoulder tentatively. "Welp, later girl scout," I said before zooming toward the park again, though not before I heard her renew her scream, this time full of rage.

* * *

 _The Battlefield_

"Begin!" Dean's voice rang throughout the battlefield, the sound of metal clashing against metal accompanying it. The clangs continued as Marcas tried to force his way past IceFlame to get a clean shot at Nicole, with Phil getting stonewalled in much the same way. The Necromancer's spear was a golden blur, instantly and effortlessly turning aside any attack, physical or otherwise, that the two elites managed to unleash; most of their energy was spent avoiding _his_ attacks.

Diving out of the way of yet another thrust from the Wizard, the Fae summoned his Stormblade, the massive energy construct glowing an especially potent amethyst in the twilight. IceFlame's face showed surprise before returning to its expressionless default, but, as the Fir Darrig noted with an internal smile, his spear flashed anew with Death energy before he charged his smaller opponent. The "blades" met with a clash, locking against each other for a moment before the fighters pulled away, only to unleash a flurry of hits. The resulting whirlwind of blows was sustained by two constants:

1\. IceFlame was much stronger, and

2\. Marcas was _better_.

He was honestly worried about that, despite the fact that such a gap in skill would be logically unfeasible, considering that he would have had to attain it in the past year. _But then, he's a Master Wizard,_ he thought, _and he's only been training for four years. Feasibility really shouldn't be my guide in this fight._ Ducking under a heavy swing, he jabbed at the Wizard, only for him to sidestep and whack him with the shaft, knocking him away. Skidding along the ground, he nearly fell over, but managed to keep his footing, only to be knocked down by a wave of ice. He broke out of the quickly growing crystals, but it was no good: IceFlame had already launched a deadly javelin of fire, sending it roaring toward his head. He jumped backwards with a curse, landing on his back, but allowing the javelin to fly over him unimpeded. He saw IceFlame rush forward, his spear illuminating the widening grin on his face. He stabbed down, changing the spear's focus from Fire to Ice, but Marcas rolled into a handstand and pushed off, delivering a punishing kick to his chest. He staggered away, winded but unharmed.

The two had only begun to catch their breath when a large—but impotent—fireball struck Marcas from behind. Leaping to the side, he caught sight of Nicole flitting over to IceFlame instead of pressing her (admittedly meager) advantage. Completely emotionally drained by the events of the day, he barely felt a twinge of annoyance when they began to argue right in front of him. Well, Nicole argued; IceFlame just stood there with a vague smile on his face.

"I told you _I_ was going to be the one to fight him, dammit!" Nicole shouted, apparently blind to the vast difference between her and her preferred opponent's power and skill levels. "Just fight Phil or something!"

"Hey, you only said that you wanted to fight him," IceFlame said calmly, "and you will. But only after I get what _I_ came here for."

"And that is?!"

"A good fight, and some **information**." The last word was directed at Marcas, who nearly jumped; he had been mentally listing all the things he had done wrong that day, and proposing alternate courses of action. As he scanned for potential weaknesses in their defense, a small, trembling pile of rocks inching closer to his opponents alerted him to the presence of Phil. Dropping his stance, he leaned against a nearby slab of rock, meeting Nicole's glare with a toothy grin. "Information, eh? Sure, I could use a breather. What do you wanna know?"

IceFlame's right eye flashed as he hitched his spear behind his back, with his left remaining unchanged. "First off," he began, "Exactly who and what are you, and where did you come from? You're clearly not in the same class as most of the monsters in this World."

Marcas snickered; IceFlame didn't know it yet, but he was about to get a bomb dropped on him. "Let me assure you IceFlame, I am a native of Wizard City."

"Unless you were born in the past year, I'll have to call bullcrap. I'd have felt a power like yours long before now."

"It's funny you should mention that, but I need to explain the whole situation in order for you to get it. Fair?" The Wizard waved for him to continue, and Nicole, interested despite herself, nodded slightly. "Good. Now, what do you know about Rattlebones?"

IceFlame thought for a moment. "Basically nothing. Malistaire got him to make Bone Cages, Eric DeathBlade killed- er, beat him, and then he laid low until now to do all of this." He made a sweeping motion with his arm, acknowledging the ruined landscape. "What about him- wait."

"Please save your theories until after the lecture. Yes, Rattlebones survived the battle, and initially, he was content to try and reclaim his role as Wizard City's chief destroyer. But there was a fatal oversight in his plan…" He paused, waiting for someone to push the question. Eventually, Nicole spat a venomous, "What?" at him.

"He was weak, too weak to take on even an Apprentice Wizard. Anytime he tried to rise, the top brass of Ravenwood sent some kid out on pest control, and the moment they met him they smacked him back down again. Wizard City is cruel to the evil."

"My heart bleeds. Why is any of this important?" IceFlame appeared to be growing bored. _Time to kick it up a notch_.

"If I recall correctly, _you_ were one of these Wizards."

"Still don't see why you're talking about this. Nearly everyone in my year did; it was basically another test to slog through."

"But Rattlebones kept _you_ in mind specifically." He snickered again at the Wizard's blank look. "No idea why, huh? Trust me, it makes sense. He considered the loss against you to be the last straw."

"Why, because I wanted to know where Eric was?"

"No, because you beat the shit out of him when you found out he didn't have anything you wanted. A beatdown like that, from someone that close to the bane of his existence? He snapped. He went underground and began making all sorts of new creatures in an attempt to take over Wizard City for himself. But there was an oversight in _that_ plan, too…" Seeing the fierce glare Nicole flashed him, he chuckled and continued. "Everything he made tried to kill him for one reason or another. Not surprising, considering he took Unicorn Way residents and experimented on them to make 'em his minions. The only things that bother listening to him are the Shadows, and they're mainly surveillance, aside from the occasional "supply run". BUT, thanks to them, Rattlebones created the seven most powerful beings in the Spiral: the Fir Darrig."

" Oh, Goddamn it."

"Oh, it gets better! With each of us belonging to a different School of magic, and possessing unique abilities, we were tasked to raze Wizard City, and hunt you down and kill you!"

IceFlame gave him a strange look. "Then why didn't you? It'll be coming on to a year now since your "birth" judging by context clues, but Wizard City's still standing and last time I checked, I'm still breathing."

"Yeaaah… the orders didn't take." Not _exactly_ true; though Rattlebones's skill and power programming was done through the incubation tanks' individual matrices, his "conditioning" was delivered orally while the Fir Darrig gestated. While this mainly annoyed them to the point of rebellion, it also left a nagging mental urge to kill IceFlame for Marcas at least. It was easily ignored, but was a source of constant irritation. "We blew him up and went to a building full of Dark Fairies. As a matter of fact," he said, pointing to Nicole, "you might've been one of them." A stifled gasp, quickly followed by a breathless demand for details, filled Marcas with a small amount of mirth. Leaning back, he shrugged and let the other shoe drop: "You know, one of the few we didn't kill in there."

He almost felt bad seeing her expression morph from surprise to horror, quickly followed by rage; almost, of course, being the key word. He was worried by IceFlame, though; before settling in a rather grim expression, his face showed actual anger instead of the annoyance Marcas was beginning to suspect was his strongest emotion. "Then what?" the Necromancer asked in a clipped tone.

"Simply put, we planned another course: control over whatever World each of us wished. I stayed behind, claiming this World for myself, while the others went on ahead, each one hoping to conquer one for themselves." The rock pile look-alike inched closer and closer to the stock-still Nicole. Grinning wider, Marcas slowly slid a throwing knife from a hidden fold in his duster, keeping it out of sight of his opponents. He was loath to use such an underhanded tactic, but he held no illusions: they were equally matched now, but IceFlame was wearing him down, and would eventually overwhelm him. _I am_ not _going to lose this World to him._

IceFlame contemplated for a while before responding. "Exactly what are you doing in Wizard City? You can't be conquering still; it's been a year now. You should either have been ruling or shut down at this point."

Marcas growled, surprising the Wizard. "I had a concise plan," he said, keeping an eye on Phil, "that had very few hiccups in the beginning: the creation of an army, made up of native residents of Wizard City, so as not to attract notice; training said army beyond their normal capabilities; take this World one street and neighborhood at a time, until Ravenwood was cut off completely, cutting down all opposition in our way; and finally, either push a surrender and exile or complete slaughter of the surviving Heads of the School. But for some reason or another, though we have taken all of the more… hostile streets, we only got a response from them a few months ago: a four-person team of Adepts, weaker than your friend Will. Anathema, Abraxus and I took care of them with ease, but no one else showed up. I later found out from one of my spies that the top brass are covering my takeover up, closing off streets to the areas they control, and telling the citizens and students that the streets in question are either quarantined or being repaired after a gas line explosion. The only street that hasn't been closed off was the already abandoned Unicorn Way. First thing we needed in the takeover was a real base, so me and my elite soldiers were going to take THAT." He made a sharp motion indicating the just out of sight Hedge Maze. "BUT, as we all know, _she_ hindered me long enough for you Wizards to get here. And that's that."

IceFlame snorted. "That plan _may've_ worked, if not for one thing: the monsters in Wizard City are kept absurdly weak by Spiral standards, thanks to Bartleby. By the way, what are you planning to do with the Tree, anyway? It's not like you can just ignore him, ands killing him kills the Spiral altogether, assuming you could actually do it, which you can't."

Marcas shook his head, tuttting smugly. "There's that word again: monsters. You Wizards are so quick to write off anyone that isn't one of the "good guys" under such a villainizing blanket term. It's no wonder my army is as big as it is: they're so sick of being shat on by the weirdoes upstairs they're willing to topple the whole establishment."

IceFlame was silent for a time, and then stood, saying, "Wizards have problems. I know this; it's one of the reasons I left. But I'm beholden to this place, so I'll tell you this: your abuse of the trust of those under you will cost you your victory, as well as your freedom and probably some range of motion for a while. 'Cause I'm going to kick your ass from here to the Dueling Arena, and after that I'm throwing you in a perfectly sized jail cell for treason."

Marcas straightened up, knife still hidden. "Is that right? I'm sorry to say, friend, that that's not going to happen." To Nicole's credit, she immediately leapt up from her seat, wise to the trick, right as Phil burst from his disguise with a hoarse war cry. She tried to veer out of the way, but was slashed from the hip to the opposite shoulder by his trench spike, and fell to the ground, black blood seeping out of the wound. IceFlame pulled out his spear, ready to spit the Bunny, but turned at Marcas's call, already flinging a retort. Of course, any reply he could've prepared would have worked just as well, seeing as he was cut off by Marcas's knife burying itself into his left eye. Staggering back a few steps, he fell flat on his back, dust kicking up when he hit the ground.

"And that's the end of that. Good job Phil." It was perfect really; once they hid the bodies, their friends (if they showed up at all) could be deflected with some quick story about them leaving to deal with a lead or somesuch. Will would understand and be annoyed, while Chrome would be convinced by Will. _And now this spaz_ , he thought belatedly, watching Phil's incessant hand wringing go on for nearly a minute. "Phil, what are you doing?"

"I, uh, I… geez, man, I didn't wanna, um, k-kill anybody. I didn't know I'd c-c-cut her t-that deep…"

"Well you did, and now we have to hide both of these guys before their friends come. Come on, IceFlame first, and watch… your… step… oh boy."

Phil was confused. "What do you mean, 'oh boy'? What happen-" he felt a tap on his shoulder. Whirling around, he saw… Nicole, who was alive and absolutely livid, as evidenced by her solid-black eyes. She stuck out her hand, palm up, and Phil, petrified and smart enough to comply, meekly handed her his trench spike. After sizing up the weapon, she decked him across the face with the knuckled grip. Marcas watched him tumble to the ground, dazed. _Welp, that happened,_ he thought, as the Dark Fairy stalked toward him. She lifted the spike, preparing a downward swing, but he pulled it away from her with ease, kicking her back. "I can feel the killing intent from here," he said, eyeing the spike before tossing it aside, "but superpowered, your evil side is not. Thanks to that cut, you're actually weaker than you were before. And seeing as I'm your opponent…" With a flash, his Stormblade burst into existence in his hand, "I don't think the odds are in your favor." She rushed him, only to come to a stop some feet away from him and clutch her shoulder, hissing in pain. Swinging out, he let loose a gust of wind that flung her into the far wall, near IceFlame's… IceFlame's… "For the love of-"

He ducked out of reach of the golden spear racing for his head, and watched it zoom back to its thrower. " Motherfucker! What does it take, huh!? What the hell does it take!? Look at you! You still have the knife in your eye, damn it! Why aren't—" IceFlame plucked out the knife, eye still attached—"you… uh… wha…"

"Glass."

"Ah."

"I mean, I still _did_ use it to see, but, ya know, them's the works. Gotta hand it to you though, you're certainly more trouble than I thought you would be, so as a sort of thank you, I'm going to show you my transformation."

 _Pardon?_ "T…transformation? What, like a Polymorph?" He grinned. "Big deal. You're gonna be about as strong as you were already, just with different moves. And that missing eye counts against you more than you know."

"Oh, no doubt. But there's another flaw with my transformation…"

"Yeah, what?"

" **I can't hide my power in it.** "

"Wait, what?" But it was already happening: a high wind picked up, blowing off of IceFlame in pressurized waves, their cacophony only drowned out by his scream. It went on, and on, and on… Marcas began to think—began to _hope_ —that something went wrong, that the Wizard was dying… and then… everything stopped.

* * *

 _A: I don't really have anything more to say, so... bye!_


	11. A Show of Superior Force

_Affable: I only have one minute to do this, so I'll make it quick! Read, Follow, Favorite, and Review Chapter 10 Part 2: A Show of Superior Force! I love you all!_

* * *

"-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" Chrome stopped to breathe, prompting Will to look up hopefully from his spellbook, only to begin screaming again soon after. Will simply returned to his book; trying to get her to stop would only result in more screaming, this time directed at him. After improving a few more equations he had scrawled a few weeks earlier, he turned to a sketch he meant to go back to: two stately Dogs, a Lord and Lady, were hand in hand in the middle of a waltz.

The Lord, despite his fine, but ill-fitting, clothing, cut a roguish figure: one narrow, electric blue eye contrasting with its wide, milky-white pair; scruffy brown and gray fur covered a wiry but powerful frame; a bone wand handle poked out of a coat pocket, never out of its master's reach. In contrast, the Lady seemed to be very much upper class. Her snowy fur and locks, deep red eyes, and short, narrow muzzle denoted a breed confined to the highest echelons of Marleybonian society, and she seemed completely comfortable in her elegant emerald and cream ball gown. The dancers appeared to be complete opposites, save for the loving look the partners gave each other.

Will smiled as he closed his book, eager for the day to end so he could return to his easel; he wanted nothing more than to translate the drawing to paint. _Briar and Rose WaggStaff,_ he thought, _my… patrons, I guess?_ He never really knew how to treat the couple: whenever Nick left him at their manor while he was away on "business", they were always cordial, if somewhat distant. They always left him to his own devices when he was there, except for their training sessions, where he was welcome to either watch or even join in, the same as any of the other visitors that happened to be there at the time.

"Chrome." Lady Oriel's voice jarred Will out of his ruminations, and finally stopped the Fairy's scream. She turned to face the much larger Seraph, whose otherwise kind face displayed impatience. "Are you _quite_ done, or do I need to find another Fairy to help organize repairs?"

Chrome blushed and shook her head furiously, mortified. "No need for that, my Lady," she said hurriedly. "I'll get on that right away!" She bowed low, and flitted to the ruined doorway. Packing up, Will followed her, for lack of anything better to do. He picked up a particularly large chunk of wood and positioned it on the ground next to a somewhat fitting piece. Putting a gloved finger on the beginning of the seam the two pieces joined, he muttered a few words under his breath, causing a green spark to jump to life on its tip. With no small amount of satisfaction, he ran his finger down the seam, leaving a glowing trail on the wood. Setting the pieces down in the quickly fading sunlight, he repeated the process on another two pieces of wood, and then another. Afterward, he checked on the first pieces, or rather, piece: new wood had grown from the glowing area, fusing the pieces into a seamless whole. Will then began fusing the larger chunks together until he had one complete, too-heavy-to-physically-lift door. _I did good_ , was his first thought. His second, of course, was, _Damn it._

"Hey, Chrome, how's your door going?" he asked, and did a double take when he saw it perfectly fitted on its hinges. "…How?"

"I began from the hinges."

 _Damn it._ "Just… help me deal with this."

Together, they managed to levitate the door to its original position. After a minute of fiddling, they managed to fit the remaining door correctly, making the completed set as good as new. "We did good," Will said happily. "So what's next?" Without a word, Chrome motioned to the enormous cracks spiderwebbing the walls. "…Damn it."

 **Basically an Eternity Later…**

"Okay, it took basically an eternity, but the walls are fixed."

"It was barely five minutes, you big baby."

"Potato, potato. On to the next thing: seeing if we can make it to the end of our friends' fight against a destructive warlord. I mean, with my luck, your screaming basically lasted the entire battle, and right now they're all shooting the breeze while we're here doing repairs."

The Fairy huffed in exasperation. "Yeah, well, they can have their little "fight" without me. I mean, what's even the point of going? We already know how it's going to end: Nicholas beats them no-contest, Marcas is captured while the rest leave or something, and Nicole gets pissy because she wanted to beat Marcas herself, but got held up by that Bunny, Frank or whatever. Who really cares anymore, I ask you?" She plopped down on the ground. "This entire mess has been dragging on for far too long. At first, after I got over my fear, I was sort of excited, you know? Like, I never noticed it before, but I was always a little… not _bored,_ exactly, but kind of restless here. Don't get me wrong," she hurriedly assured Lady Oriel, who was listening in, "I'm perfectly happy with my role here! But sometimes… I feel a bit constricted; it's as if nothing ever really changes here. So when that cannonball crashed through the door, I was terrified, just like everyone else. But then I began to feel excited; "This is like the beginning of a grand adventure, just like in some of my favorite novels," I thought. But the last few hours have just been an emotional roller coaster, and I'm too drained to bother seeking out Nicole right now."

Will sat down facing her, pulling down his hood. "Yeah, I hear you," he said, nodding. "Situations like this start to wear on you after a while. Nick is just a magnet for this crap, and he LOVES it, weirdly enough. I'd be cool with it, but that battle-freak almost always dragged me along for the ride when he wasn't droning on about "effective trading tips" when we planned trips to the Bazaar."

"Yeah, um, a question about Nicholas: were you ever, you know, scared of him? You know, in the beginning?"

The Wizard sat back with a low whistle. "Hmm… not really… but then, I always assumed he was a Master when I first met him... which, he was, as a matter of fact. But somehow, in the two years I've known him, he gained the type of power most Wizards won't in ten. I guess I got used to him, but most people think he's weird, even, well, scary. But even now, knowing his full power, he's still him, just, you know, a lot stronger."

Chrome nodded, smiling. "That's nice." She pulled a face, remembering the Necromancer's rather extravagant entrance. "All the power of a demigod, and he uses it to shake up Unicorn Way."

Will snorted. "Professor Balestrom made something similar during a seminar. It's all about the raw release of power, and trying to hold it together so it makes something more than a load of hot wind. Want to know the worst part? Nick's wasn't even a Grandmaster level storm; He can go a lot higher than that."

A bead of sweat formed on Chrome's forehead. "You said he was a Master when you met him," she said, pushing herself to keep the conversation going, "so what is he now?"

"I don't know if they even have a word for what he is now, but a Grandmaster is at max Level Fifty-nine. Nick said he was Level Seventy, and considering I have no reason to think he's lying, that would mean he's a full order removed from Grandmasters like Headmaster Ambrose."

"Huh… So how do we know when he uses his full power?"

"I couldn't begin to guess if he was fighting normally, but if he had a Polymorph, that would be a good indicator."

"How so?"

"Polymorphs are dictated by Level. Depending on how powerful they are, they're locked away at specific level requirements so weaker spellcasters can't abuse them, and stronger ones won't waste their time on the lower level ones. Plus, you can't really hide your power in one; your well of power is different, so all your attention is focused on keeping a grip on the transformation itself. So if Nick uses a Polymorph, all of his power and then some will be on full display. But I've never seen him use one the entire time I've known him, so-"

 _ROOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRR!_

The trio looked started, and looked around, as if hoping to catch sight of the source of the interruption. Will stood up and opened the doors, only to be knocked down by a combination of a sudden tremor and a burst of magically charged wind. The roar continued unabated, clear even above the howling wind and the further twisting of the street.

"What _is_ that?!" Chrome shouted, somehow making herself heard over the noise. Will attempted to respond, but before he could, a distinct phenomena manifested: reality, or at least reality in their general vicinity, seemed to… **unhinge** , as if girding itself for an impossible release of power. Before he could collect his thoughts, it snapped back to normal, bringing with it a feeling of _wrongness_. Something was drastically wrong with the source of the power spike, enough that all the other powers he felt previously, even those of Lady Oriel, Chrome, and the other fairies, were drowned out by its sheer intensity.

A soft white light began to glow behind Will and Chrome, alerting them to Oriel's high-powered Ward making a line the tempest visibly broke up against. "Get behind the Ward!" the Seraph called out. "You will be lost if you linger!" Without reservation, the pair jumped behind the shimmering boundary, just before a gust of malignant wind—the strongest yet—crashed against it, before dying entirely, leaving only a heavy silence.

* * *

Marcas the Fir Darrig, undisputed holder of Wizard City and the ultimate warrior of his kind, dove behind a stone fence, narrowly avoiding the Draconian's gout of flame and landing awkwardly on Phil. _Doesn't matter, still alive._ He sat up, supporting himself against the fence, trying to catch his breath before his opponent launched his next salvo. Phil seemed completely shell shocked, constantly looking over the fence in search for _his_ opponent. A bone-chilling giggle floated on the wind, and a girl's voice called out in an eerie singsong manner, "Oh, Phiiiiiil! Come out and plaaaaaay! We have _so_ much to talk about! Like how to PROPERLY attack an opponent! Hint: _it's not when their back's turned!_ "

"I only sssaw the Red Man in the last five minutesss or ssso before I lost sight of him. The Bunny eluded me, too; it appearsss to be a ssskill of hisss." The Draconian's testy hiss placed him only a few feet away from his ally, by Marcas's reckoning. He looked around for a promising escape route, to no avail: they were pinned, plain and simple. _Damn it, this is a disaster!_ He nearly slammed his fist against the ground in frustration, but caught himself just in time; the pair would definitely hear it, even from that distance. He slumped forward, his head resting on his knees. _How did we even end up here?_ Feeling a sudden burst of inspiration, he peeked over the fence and caught the girl's eye, struggling to activate the ability before she noticed him—

 _Flashes of the past, disrupted by the release of a massive well of energy, enter your mind: "I have a specific technique that may be a little hard to grasp at first, but that I'm sure you'll take to admirably; it's called "beat the other guy senseless"."_

" _Okay, so clearly you're a poisoned well of knowledge, so—"_

" _Bitchin', let's do it."_

" _Bwahahahahahaha!" "Wha—you jus—I—just— aaaaaagh!"_

" _Welp… later girl scout!"_

" _GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—"_

Marcas ducked back down before she saw him, trying to steady his vision; the Signum was always disorienting when the user was out of practice, and seeing as the last time he used it was during their last big battle two months ago, he was well past that point. "Well, since they apparently didn't plan this (or anything, really) at all, I can safely call that a bust," he said to himself. "So now what?" He peeked past the side of the fence to see an odd sight: the Dark Fairy was perched on the Draconian's head and waving a trench spike to the left, trying to get him to turn; her wound leaving her wings effectively crippled, she was using the height advantage afforded to her by her unusual position to scout out potential hiding places he and Phil may have hid. Of course, she didn't check behind the nearest balustrade, because no one was _that_ brazen, now were they? This was a reasonable oversight, one Marcas was happy to exploit for the extra minute or two it would grant him. _Well, us,_ he amended, looking over at his partner and underling.

Phil, apparently having gotten over his horror at Nicole's "transformation", was now rubbing his jaw where she struck him in retaliation, drying blood speckling his brown-and-white fur. "How're you doin', man?" Marcas asked the Bunny, making him freeze, only to relax a moment later when he recognized his leader's voice. He sighed, staring at the sky with a dejected expression. "I, uh, I'm alright. S-sir. I-I'm just t-tryin' to, um, well, tryin' to…" he trailed off miserably, quietly ending with, "I didn't mean for this t' happen."

Marcas patted his melancholy teammate on the shoulder reassuringly, while checking to see if the monstrous duo were turned away; some semblance of a plan was beginning to churn in his mind, but the timing had to be right. "Don't beat yourself up over it. It's not like you knew about any of this, right?" Phil didn't answer. "Either way, if we're gonna win, we're gonna have to take the fight to them." He allowed a tiny squeak of dismay to escape his comrade, before letting the other shoe drop: "Or we can stay here until they find us on their own." Another, louder squeak confirmed his aversion to that idea. "Well, there you go. On my signal, we rush the girl. She's on the big one's snout." Phil, not wishing to get close to the deadly duo but fearing the repercussions of inaction, nodded weakly and began to form a small, cream-colored energy orb. Marcas gave him a grim nod before working on his own attack; the Bunny was preparing an especially potent attack, one that could feasibly take the Dark Fairy out for good if it connected.

"Damn it, where _is_ he? He didn't run off… at least I _think_ he didn't." Nicole seemed equal parts agitated and listless, her shoulders seemingly drooping in exhaustion. The Draconian hissed impatiently, incensed at the very thought that his quarry may have escaped. "If they wish to run, fine!" Shaking Nicole off of him and flaring red-and-orange wings, he said, "I'll burn those cowards down from the sssky if I have to!"

He raised his wings to the sky in preparation to take to the air, only for the Dark Fairy to grab one of them with a snarl. "The barracks bunny is **mine**. You are _not_ taking that kill from me!" Her ally snorted, and snapped his wings outward, flinging the smaller girl into the nearest balustrade… the same one that Marcas and Phil were hiding behind, stock-still and not daring to even breathe.

"The only one who said anything about killing was you, if I recall correctly," he replied, as the Dark Fairy picked herself up off the ground. "But no one will be killed by anyone if we stand here and argue for the rest of the day." He raised his wings again and, this time unhindered by his ally's interruption, took off into the air with several heavy pumps. Nicole glared after him, clutching her shoulder; the place where the gash was deepest was also where she recently hit the balustrade, much to her misfortune. In her ire, she flung the trench spike into the nearest pile of rubble and began firing small meteors at promising hiding places; this, of course, excluded the balustrade directly behind her.

 _Everything went to shit way too fast to prepare for, honestly_ , Marcas thought, watching as the Dark Fairy launched a particularly large meteor at a passing Lost Soul, laughing as its incorporeal form exploded into tiny shreds of shimmering light. _To think, we had this whole plan ready to go… Okay, it wasn't_ much _of a plan, but it was still a plan_ , Marcas thought to . Another Lost Soul, blasted away by the maddened Dark Fairy, who now had her back turned to their hiding place. _Op, there we go._ "On my signal," he murmured to Phil, who got into position at the edge of the fence.

Nicole caught sight of what appeared to be yet another Lost Soul, and flicked another meteor at it. Focused on the resulting explosion, she didn't hear a hissed "Now!" from the Fir Darrig, nor did she pay any mind to the smell of ozone that permeated the air until a magic missile slammed into her, knocking her toward an inexplicably intact Lost Soul… or at least, what had _appeared_ to be a Lost Soul at first glance. She noted a distinct yellow tint in its coloring as she flung herself to the left, Marcas's Stormblade cleaving the cobbles she lied on but missing her entirely.

"Dammit!" Marcas swore angrily, as Nicole cleared his following swing with barely an inch to spare, landing on her feet and firing a volley of stinging embers, which he laboriously blocked with the flat of his "blade". _Phil had a direct hit! How is she still able to dodge me? Hell, how is she still able to stand?_ Reaching out, he managed to tap her arm thigh and chest in quick succession, the electrical current making her cry out in pain and collapse, limbs flailing. He rushed forward… only to be knocked away by a Troll's wild swing. Leaping to his feet, he raised his sword (the Stormblade having fizzed out when he was hit) to meet its club before it crashed down on his head. "Okay, now what the hell are you doing here?" he said nonchalantly, as he knocked away the club and struck the sudden interloper in the ribs with the flat edge of the sword, winding it.

"Grrr…"

The Troll's animalistic growl marked it as one not for conversation, or even basic speech. Of course, a hefty whack to the chest wouldn't help matters much, but Marcas was too busy looking for the source of the Troll's sudden appearance to care very much about that at all. _Okay, so Nicole's still trying to move, a Blood Bat's swooping down at her, Phil's floating in the air getting forced choked by the Myth Shadow coming straight at me..._ shit _._

The three seconds afforded to him was barely enough to do what he did next, but he managed: immediately rabbit-punching the Troll before it got any ideas, he fired off a quick energy bullet at the heavily-phlegming chiropteran, strong enough to incapacitate, but not enough to cause any permanent damage; while also wishing to save his energy for the Draconian formerly known as Nicholas, he didn't want to cause any unwarranted injury to a random animal called from parts unknown. Placing a free hand on the flat, he willed his Stormblade into existence, ignoring the drain as he cut the Shadow in half. Continuing, he slashed the rapidly graying enemy into translucent ribbons, and obliterated it with a good-sized blast. Phil flopped to the ground, the hold on him no longer being sustained, but hopped back up almost immediately, apparently unfazed by the psionic death grip he had suffered. "M-man, that was, was cool, Marcas! I didn't know y-you could do that!" the Bunny said, amazed by the speed at which the Fae dispatched the attackers. Marcas grinned, welcoming the much-needed compliment, and caught an unusual sight in the corner of his eye, prompting him to turn Phil toward it.

The Troll, clambering to its feet with a roar of rage, froze suddenly, and began to glow with a soft amber light. Rapidly growing in intensity, it encompassed the monster in seconds, and broke apart in a scattering of motes; they had just witnessed the signature cessation of a created creature's life. "Wh-wha-aaat?! W-what j-just happened to that guy?!" Phil was, understandably, shocked by what they just saw. Marcas shrugged. "It was Created by the Shadow, so when I killed it, our friend there dissipated. The Bat was just Called." The Bat in question, now free from the Shadow's command, began to fly in the direction of the Wizard City Commons, the orange sunset glancing against its wings.

"O-oh, I mean, that's okay, I-I guess," Phil said, gaze avoiding the spot where the Troll disappeared, and caught the spot where Nicole lay… or rather, _used_ to lay. "Um, Marcas, w-where's Nic—"

 _ **CRASH!**_

The duo whirled around, as the Draconian landed heavily in the middle of the sidewalk, concrete cracking under his talons. He slowly began to walk toward them, wings folding and unfolding behind his back, single murky green eye glimmering with malicious intent. In a large, clawed hand, he held Nicole, who hung from his grip limply, clearly unconscious. "I think you dropped this," he rasped, hurling her at them. Marcas twitched out of the way, leaving Phil to take the body to the face, throwing him back and sending them both sprawling to the ground, with the Bunny being knocked unconscious from the impact. _Well that's not good_ , Marcas thought absently, as his opponent tapped a horn knowingly, a manic grin splitting his features. "I want you to think back to the beginning of this battle. To see and truly _live_ the moment you realized that you would die here."

Marcas raised his cutlass, its point trained on the opposing monster's remaining eye, keeping himself from quaking with only some difficulty. "As a matter of fact," he managed to say, "I'd rather just continue what we're doing now, if that's cool with you." He squeezed off a quick shot before rushing the massive warrior, only for him to backhand the bullet, detonating it harmlessly, and grabbing the Fir Darrig bodily, crushing him in his grip. Marcas choked on a scream, his bones grinding together harshly as he was raised to eye level. The eye flashed, stunning him, before firing a sustained beam of light into his own. Before the world whited out, he heard a rasping chuckle. "And as a matter of fact, I wasn't asking…"

* * *

"…But there's another flaw with my transformation…"

"Yeah, what?"

" **I can't hide my power in it.** "

"Wait, what?" But it was already happening: a high wind picked up, blowing off of IceFlame in pressurized waves, their cacophony only drowned out by his scream. It went on, and on, and on… Marcas began to think—began to _hope_ —that something went wrong, that the Wizard was dying… and then… everything stopped.

The world went grey, its color burned away. All movement ceased, the wind dying and Marcas freezing in place against his will. Sound seemed to have never existed. It was a Moment, hanging outside of time for time immaterial, and it drove Marcas nearly insane from its immense pressure. And then their Moment slammed back into time with a release of raw magic power, and everything started all at once: the wind howled, stopped, and began to pull back to form a magically charged column of air around the Wizard, whose scream morphed into a deafening roar. Marcas clung to a broken lamppost to keep from being pulled into the maelstrom, and saw that Nicole and the awakened Phil were sharing a particularly large pothole. The roar ceased, and Marcas turned back to see IceFlame's full grin through the wind column. He closed his eye and raised his arms in a sad sort of shrug, as if to say, "sorry buddy, it's out of my hands," before raising them completely, palms facing upwards as if to hold up the sky. A pulse of magical power ignited the already unstable wind tower, transforming it into a tornado of red and white flame. IceFlame began to scream again, only for it to transform into a mad peal of laughter.

Marcas felt a stabbing in his mind watching the increasingly bizarre spectacle, a tangible indicator that what he was witnessing was _wrong_ , completely against the laws of the universe itself, an indescribable mar on the fabric of reality. _What… what IS he?!_ There were a few times when he felt some level of fear, but they were nothing compared to the deep, visceral terror he felt grasp his heart like a freezing cold vise.

IceFlame's silhouette became visible through the flames, twitching and _twisting_ like a possessed marionette. With a screech, bat-like wings sprouted out of the figure's back, snapping open and shut reflexively. Hands warped into brutal claws, and the silhouette's modest height nearly doubled. The flame tower collapsed into a shining sphere, and IceFlame's unending cackle turned into a thunderous roar. With an impossibly loud boom, the sphere exploded, revealing IceFlame's transformation: a nearly ten foot tall Draconian in smoking gray plate armor.

His powerful tail lashed casually, crushing stones and snapping lampposts and fences like twigs. A single, murky-green eye sat above a snout full of wicked fangs. Orange-red wings with a smooth purple membrane folded and unfolded slowly, matching his breathing. His armor depicted many multicolored eyes and mouths, opening and closing hungrily. Overall, IceFlame cut a figure lifted straight out of the nightmares of collective consciousness. He uttered a sibilant hiss of amusement at the Fir Darrig in front of him. "Well. There you go."

Marcas was quaking in blind terror. IceFlame's power nearly doubled from what he felt before. He almost didn't hear the Draconian's next words: " **Let'sss have a good time.** "

* * *

"…OKAY, so, gee, how about I kick things off by asking WHAT THE BED-SHITTING FUCK WAS THAT!?" Chrome, as could be expected, was in fine form over the new development. Lady Oriel was somewhat occupied making sure none of the other fairies were harmed in the event, but Will was fully able and willing to cut the Fairy off before she picked up steam. "Chrome-"

"Hey Will! Shut up!" So much for that. "What the hell _was_ that bullshit?! We were rolling along, like a pair of walking, talking daisies who found a nice pile of shit to sink our roots into, and like, talking through some personal thoughts and insights, right? But then Time or, Reality or some shit, up and had a brain _shart_ , like, "Oooooooh, shit is up the creek without a paddle", and I'm like, _right?!_ Shit is so far away from the paddle, Will; the shit wants nothing to DO with that paddle right now! Shit up and threw that paddle away, and now the paddle's filing for divorce and custody of it and the shit's three kids!"

"Um… w-what?" Will interjected weakly, but Chrome continued unabated, grabbing his shoulders for extra emphasis.

"After serving some cold, hard truth like that, RealiTime shits the bed, 'cause some demon or vaguely established god decides to check up on how shit's going here! And we're all right in the thick of that shit, Will."

"We… we are?"

"YES!" she exclaimed, tightening her grip on his shoulders. "But we're not talking about daisy shit!"

"We're not?"

"No! We're talking about some Grade A Reality shit! So loamy and fit for incineration by some god taking one whiff and saying, "You know, I wasn't going to treat myself today after bringing down that plague on Tajikistan, but what the hell, let's get corpsey! Well, what do ya know, I got a few unlucky bastards right here! I'll torch them first, and then the other bitches hiding in that building!" That's what we're in, Will!"

"...Chrome, not that this isn't _amazing_ , but we've got real shit- um, _stuff_ , to deal with right now."

"LIKE WHAT?!"

"Like Nick."

This finally managed to snap the Fairy out of her spiel. "Pardon?"

Now that the "storm" calmed down, the Sorcerer could feel all the energy signatures he could before… all except one. "I can't be sure, but I think that may have been the Polymorph thing I was talking about?"

"That was no Polymorph!" Lady Oriel said sharply, glaring at the direction of the new power. "The energy it gives off is warped and abominable. If it is a transformation, it is only the release of your mentor's true form."

" _Whatever_ it is," Will said, exasperated, "I've gotta go there and check if Nicole and the Fir are even alive after something like that." _Not to mention what might be happening now_ , he thought.

"I'll come with you," Chrome said instantly, flew out the door without him. "Wait, Chrome, stick toge- aaand she's gone. Awesome." He dashed off after her, but was forced to stop when he cleared the first corner, arriving at a veritable mountain of red-hot asphalt, iron, and stone blocking his path. "Someone up there must hate me," he lamented, before clearing a low fence and zigzagging through ruined buildings toward his goal.


	12. It's Not The Same Moon

_Affable: Chapter 10 Part Three: It's Not The Same Moon is ready for your reading pleasure NOW!  
_

* * *

"Oh, goddamn it."

Will had finally arrived on the battlefield, where a depressingly familiar scenario presented itself: in the center of a smoking crater, all but one fighter lay unconscious, with the remaining one valiantly yet ineffectually attacking the vastly superior force responsible for the devastation. _I have been in this exact position way too many times for my age,_ he thought, rushing to the crater. "Okay, Nicole's here, and Marcas, and Frank," he rattled off quickly; not for any real need to count how many people there were, but rather to reaffirm his suspicions. "Which means," he continued, turning to the battle waging in the middle of the street, "Chrome is most likely, uh, "fighting" Nick." The "fight", as it was, was one-sided to an unusual degree: Chrome was flinging bolts of ice at every exposed inch of flesh available to her, while Nick …was completely unaffected, as evidenced by the fact that he seemed completely absorbed by the sight of the full moon, its light unhindered by the night's sparse cloud cover.

Will looked up, taking in the shining satellite with a small frown. He was never taken in by the illusion; he knew full well that the large disk hovering barely a thousand feet or so above them was fake… at least, compared to his World. Artificial moons were actually par for the course for the various city-sized chunks of land that made up the Spiral. Still, no matter how long he lived and traveled, he could never get used to their oddly smooth, flat surfaces. _Why are you still thinking about moons! Break up the fight!_

Nick's remaining eye ( _Shit, what even happened here?_ Will thought belatedly) began to glow a sickly green, and a raspy growl rolled throughout the battlefield, alerting the younger Wizard to his growing irritation with Chrome's assault. "Chrome, back off! I'm trying something!" he called out. Ducking under Nick's impatient swipe, the Fairy zipped over to him, out of breath and shaky.

"Fine," she said, taking quick gasps, "do whatever you're going to do. I'll look after the others. But Will—" she grabbed his arm, "—don't get too close to him, okay? Trust me." With that, she returned to the unconscious fighters, leaving him with his mentor. _Hoo-freaking-ray._ "Nick!" The Draconian swung his head toward him, the eye's glow becoming more substantial.

"Will." His statement was completely neutral, if somewhat terse. The glow faded, though it remained just barely noticeable. He ruffled his wings and waited, watching the Sorcerer silently. The seconds crept by, both combatants stock-still save for Nick's breastplate, whose many eyes and mouths lolled lazily. Feeling the awkwardness set in, Will spoke first: "So… you have a Polymorph, then? That's… cool. You know, aside from the damage to the street… and the World ending power up… oh, and don't forget the whole "beating up three completely defenseless people maybe a fourth your size" thing, one of who, as you may recall, was your friend!"

"To be fair, I've only known her for a few hoursss now," Nick said, unbothered by his student's accusations. "Besidesss, she's hardly blamelesss in all of thisss."

"What are you talking about?"

"Jussst give it a moment."

Sure enough, a cry rose from the crater after a few seconds, and Chrome darted back toward Will, with Nicole following in hot pursuit, loosing a screech of unbridled fury. The pair zipped around the Sorcerer before Nicole managed to catch up, grab the smaller Fae by the ankle, and start twirling her around like an improvised hammer. Building enough momentum, the maddened Dark Fairy let Chrome loose, sending her crashing against a low wall and hitting the ground painfully. She tried to rush her fallen friend, only for Will to knock her down with a heavy whack to the side, and pinning her to the ground when she began to struggle.

After a minute or so, she gave up, gasping for air. "Get—" _huff_ "—off—" _puff_ "—of—" _wheeze_ "—me!"

"Nicole, calm down! What the hell are you doing? Why did you attack- what is wrong with your eyes? They're like, all pupil… are you high? Were you pricked by something? Are you hallucinating right now?"

"I'm pretty sure she popped a blood vesssel or two," Nick remarked drily. Nicole only saw fit to start trying to push Will's staff off of her chest, to no avail.

"So how do I snap her out of it?" the Sorcerer asked, only to receive a dismissive shrug from his mentor.

"Hell if I know," Nick said, eye listing back to the moon. "Just hit her a few times in the head, that usually works in situations like this."

"Thanks, but I'd rather not mess her up further." Will shifted his staff's position, pinning his captive down more securely while alleviating some pressure, allowing her to breathe easier. _There's nothing for it, I guess._ Concentrating for a second, he let out a burst of magic through his staff, stunning the pinned Dark Fairy. Backing away carefully, he rushed over to Chrome. Taking stock of her prone form, he noted a bad bite mark on her arm, as well as blood running from a gash on the back of her head. Wasting no time, he got to work.

* * *

 _In a place beyond recount, scattered memories swirl by_ : the turning over of a new friend's unconscious body reveals a horrific wound; haste and panic blurring the absolute focus needed to bind flesh and restore blood for several breathless seconds, before pushing the unwelcome distractions away, to be dealt with at a later time, to allow the magic to flow forth; the relief when she stirs, replaced by shock and concern when she opens her eyes, only to again be replaced by pain and bewilderment when she lashes out, biting her in the arm deeply enough to break the skin; trying and failing to escape, and getting thrown into a wall as a consequence.

 _Even more faded are the ghosts of long concluded conversations:_

"Chrome, if you will _please_ pry yourself away from that absurdly large book, we must prepare for…"

"…ways flitting around with barely a 'hi' or 'how do you do' like she's SO much better than us, just because the Rook wanted her help on a few projects. It's not like she's her successor or anything. Someone ought to—oh, Chrome! …Um… how long were you standing there…"

"So, Lady, I believe Chrome will be an exemplary replacement."

"…"

"Of course if you have any concerns as to her ability, you only need voice them."

"No, no, Aurelian, her ability is not in question; I have complete confidence in you on that front. It's just that… I didn't know she _wanted_ the position."

"Oh, doubtless she doesn't. Honestly, I'm not sure if she even knew I was vetting her for it. Nevertheless, she will be a more than worthy successor; I don't have a shred of doubt about it."

"Truly?"

"Lady, how long have I worked under you?"

"Nigh on twenty years."

"And how many times have I been wrong about anything?"

"Three times, if I recall correctly."

"Yes, and all within the last two years. I'm slipping."

"Aura, if you made thrice that, you'd still be far ahead even my second castellan in that regard. You have a great many years left in you."

"Doubtless on that count as well. However, I believe Chrome will be far greater than me, or even the illustrious Morgan. All that's left for me to do is point her in the right direction."

"I'll keep my fingers crossed. But I must ask, where do you plan to go?"

"I suspect I shall wander for as long as I'm able, providing aid where it is needed. All I know for certain is that teaching will NOT be a part of it."

"Hehe… well, good luck to you, my friend. So how will you break the news to her?"

"Hm? Oh, she'll know now; isn't that right, Chrome..."

 _Chrome!_

She jerked awake, pushing Will aside for room. Getting her feet under her, she managed to stand, leaning against the wall for balance. She didn't have to look at her arm to know that Will's impromptu healing spell didn't extend there, and was still seeping blood. Willing it closed, she turned toward the silent Nicholas, who seemed enraptured by the sight of the moon. Meeting the gaze of one of the few open eyes of his breastplate for a moment, she broke away with a shudder and instead faced Will.

"Chrome, are you okay?" he was asking. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes," she responded (why did she sound so wooden all of a sudden?), "I'm okay. Did you get caught by Nicholas?"

"Caught? No, we just sort of… I guess talked, stared at _that_ thing"—he jerked a finger at the overhead moon—"for a bit, and generally were just pointless for about five minutes, even when Nicole knocked you out."

Healing the last of her injuries, she turned toward Nicole, who was now beginning to stir. "Will, what was wrong with…" her voice trailed off unbidden, unsure of what to say.

"Look, I'll admit I'm not one hundred percent sure what EXACTLY triggered this, but something's gone wrong in Nicole's head. I'm not really a healer, so I'd do a lot more harm than good rooting around in there, but YOU are. Are you able to fix internal injuries like that?" Not looking away, she saw the Dark Fairy's jerky, almost mechanical struggles to stand. Suppressing the urge to flinch, she made her way toward her obviously injured friend.

When she finally noticed her, Nicole let out an animalistic growl in an attempt to warn her off. When Chrome kept coming, she heaved herself up through sheer force of will, stumbling and nearly falling over all over again. When Chrome was finally close enough, she lunged, only to swipe at empty air. She twisted around in time to see the Fairy flying toward the direction of the Park and the Dueling Arena. "Oh, hell no." Lifting off the ground with her now fully functional wings, she called out, "You don't get to run away, Chrome!" and zoomed after her.

* * *

Will watched all of this out of the corner of his eye, but the main of his attention was focused on Nick. Though his stance seemed placid enough, the massive Draconian's eye speared him with palpable, yet indecipherable intent. Deciding to bite the bullet, the Sorcerer said, "Look, whatever you were hoping for, it ain't happening now, to just change back so we can end this already."

"No."'

"What do you mean, "no"?"

I mean "no", Will. You sssee, I'm rather comfortable asss I am, so there's no real point in me turning back to "normal". Bessidess, what I wasss hoping for isss very much plausible still."

"Oh yeah? How So?"

"I came to Wizard City for the prossspect of an actual fight. Marcas managed to amuse me for a few minutesss, but in the end, he was too weakened from his curssse to put up much of a fight."

"Curse?"

"Look down." He did, and was surprised by the sight of little grass shootlets peeking out of the ground. "The World isss feeding off of him, even asss we ssspeak. But that isss of no concern the moment. What mattersss now isss the now, and now—" he flung his wings out, the wave of malignant energy nearly bowling Will over, "—we battle." With that, he took to the air, soaring into the sky, before winging around and dive-bombing his stunned protégé with a booming roar.

* * *

Chrome was doing well in her fight, especially considering she was warding off a murderous madwoman who was out for blood. To be fair, contrary to her studies, Nicole's new "evilness" didn't exactly result in a power boost, just much less restraint. Her alternating swings and waves of embers, though unpredictable, were wild in their execution, making them easier to evade, and only a little more punishing than they would've been otherwise when they did hit.

More troubling were her Fireballs. The small meteors could be formed well within a second, and exploded upon impact, making a quick retreat necessary to avoid being scorched. Worse yet, the Dark Fairy had some level of control over them, even in midair; not enough to hunt her down, obviously, but she was able to mentally push them toward her general position. In fact, at that moment, Chrome was busy dodging a veritable gatling of meteors from an increasingly irate Nicole, whose higher position allowed gravity and initial force to work together to create a much faster barrage than normal. With a scream of frustration, she abandoned her current line of attack and flew up even higher, nearly disappearing in the night sky, before a ruddy light illuminated her indistinct shape. Chrome tried to squint, but the source of the light tripled in size before her eyes, becoming perfectly recognizable: Nicole, cackling maniacally, had formed a meteor nearly her height all the way around off her index finger, and was preparing to fling it directly at her.

"Oh my Irene." She didn't know how to make fireballs herself, but she knew how to estimate distances, and comparing how large the meteor was compared to its predecessors, and judging by the explosions they made upon impact, this one was primed to take out an area… "Eight yards across," she declared, not without a hint of pride. "Approximately," she amended, before realizing what that entailed. "Oh… FUCK."

She backed away, more than a little worried at her chances of dodging the clearly lethal spell. But Nicole was already throwing the (relatively) massive explosive. Chrome, deciding to stand her ground, fired a stream of icy energy, to no effect: the freezing beam broke apart into water and fell with several yards to go, splattering against the ground at a boil. With no real options left to her, she flew back toward the clearing she left Will, only for the meteor to sail clear over her head, hit a jutting piece of masonry on one of the higher mounds of rubble, and explode violently, sending her flying back and tumbling to the ground. She got back up with a small groan of pain, blinking black spots out of her vision. Hearing Nicole land, she faced her, noting her trembling frame and rattling breath.

"Nicole, you need to calm down."

"And you need to shut up!" In terms of vitriol at least, Nicole was in _fine_ form. "I don't know what you did to my last spell, but this time-" she froze, her mouth dropping open in a comical _o_ of realization. "To hell with this, I've got something more important to do." She was off before Chrome could even think to stop her, speeding toward the battleground with the faint hint of a glow ( _Huh?_ ) about her. Chrome took off as well, with a bad feeling that she knew what that something was.

* * *

Will was doing well in his fight, especially considering he was battling a monstrous Blood Knight several magnitudes of power removed from him. Leaping out of the way of another globule of flame, he directed his Sandstorm between them. In and of itself it didn't do much, as Nick simply blasted it into a wavering sculpture of molten glass. However, Will was able to control that as well, as he proved by breaking the fragile construct into a tornado of small, magically charged shards that he sent flying toward the Draconian, only for him to send them flying in all directions with a shockwave. Throwing up a shield, Will managed to catch all of the shards that came toward him, only for the shield to be overwhelmed by nearly a ton of Draconian flesh charging through it as if it were a paper door. Nick, grabbing the younger Wizard by the hood, took to the air too fast for Will to react. Almost immediately, Will felt a sinister drain on his energy reserves. Twisting around in Nick's grip, he saw that the mouths and eyes on the older Wizard's breastplate were open, and were gleefully consuming his energy at an alarming rate.

Flying higher, and higher, and yet still higher, Nick made it nearly to the moon before he began to flag, his powerful cutting strokes replaced by vigorous flapping. With only several dozen yards to go, Will began to think that his mentor's Dracsona was merely a capricious sort, only for him to give one last, massive pump with his wings, propelling him forward at a frightening speed. Simultaneously, he threw Will in front of him, only to grab him by the ankles and swing him around like a makeshift bat. "Wait, Nick, WHAT THE HELL!?" he managed to yell before he was slammed through the charmed ceramic disk, shattering it like, well, ceramic.

 _Okay, so this asshole just smashed me through the moon,_ he thought, as he, Nick, and thousands upon thousands of flickering shards plummeted toward the ground. _All things considered though, that could've been a lot worse; my cloak took the worst of the impact easily, and I don't_ think _it got pierced anywhere. All I really have to worry about is hitting the ground, and I've got that covered already._ He fashioned a hefty amount of sand, and sent half above him in a thick sheet to protect against falling shards while the other half broke his fall. Even so, he was winded when he hit the improvised cushion, but the impossibly loud sound of Nick hitting the ground, paired with the moon shards crashing around him like glass rain for nearly a minute, drove home the fact that he was the well better off of the two Wizards. After the last shard fell (certainly well after he was sure that that was indeed the _last_ one), he approached the Draconian.

Pulling out a few of the larger shards embedded in his flesh, the Sorcerer began to talk to the almost certainly unconscious Necromancer. "Well, I'd hate to call this karma, but considering you caused massive amounts of property damage, and used me to do it to boot, it's hard to find another word for it. Honestly, what were you even _thinking_? I mean, what was the point, Nick; did you do it because you could, or did you just," he fished for a word for a bit, came up empty, and shrugged, "not like the sight of it? You never really talk about your life, so I can never be sure exactly _what's_ on your mind in these kinds of situations. You said you're from Earth, like me, so I know you'd be used to our moon, but wasn't this a bit extreme? Or was that your Draconian instincts kicking in? Do Draconian instincts even work like that? Do Polymorphs even give you those? I mean, Lady Oriel doesn't think what you have even _is_ a Polymorph, but I wouldn't know either way." He continued like that for a time, picking out shards while talking, all the while doing his best to ignore the increasingly worrying green glow about his prone form.

Picking out the worst of them, he stood up with a groan. "Ooooooooh sweet Jegus, that's gonna hurt in the morning." He shook his head. "Whatever. At least this is done."

"Yeah, thanksss… for that."

"No problem, man."

"…"

"…Oh crap."

* * *

Marcas, as one could imagine, was not having a good day… or night, as it were. Upon waking from his (hopefully) brief reprieve from consciousness, he was met by the maddened (and glowing?) Nicole, who's greeting of a somewhat muted Fireball to the face was mercifully interrupted by Chrome's admittedly impressive dive-bomb. The impact apparently stunning her, she offered no resistance as the Fairy pinned her down and prepared a standard healing spell. To no avail, of course, because the second confirmation of his horrible luck made itself known: the moon flashed, and then seemingly _exploded_ , sending millions of shards flying downward, a great many of them toward their general position. With the unspoken consensus being _RUN_ , Chrome dragged Nicole off, leaving him and the still unconscious Phil to their own devices. He immediately attempted to get up, which brought the THIRD thing to his attention: _roots_ of all things were binding his limbs, and considering the as yet unhealed wounds, he was really in no position to free himself. "Would you look at that: I've been left here to die. Thanks a lot, you two!"

Watching the blinking rain of ceramic come closer and closer, he began to ruminate, as he often did, about what, exactly, he did wrong. Before he got too far, however, a number of events came and went in quick succession: first, Chrome zipped in front of him, equal parts annoyed and contrite. "Okay, okay, keep your hair on, I've got-what the hell?" She tried to tug the roots off of him for a second, but gave up when the main body of shards began to hit the ground only a short distance away. The noise of the deluge was nearly deafening, and their attempts to block it out made them blind to the fact that they were still in danger, a predicament punctuated by an unnervingly large chunk of moon slamming into the ground only a few short feet away. Chrome, newly alert to the danger, formed a shield above them, which worked admirably for a few seconds, deflecting any and all shards that came their way. However, the weight of dozens of the absurdly large chunks slamming into and skidding across its surface proved to be too much, as the lime green shield began to flicker and crack. With one last flash, it broke apart, giving the last few falling shards a more than ample opportunity to land on the duo (trio if you count Phil, though Phil certainly wouldn't, being unconscious); indeed, several smaller, but wickedly jagged ones were dead on course for the Fairy. Before she could expend more energy on an almost certainly doomed attempt at a shield, however, another person forced their way into the situation…

* * *

I snapped back into myself, and witnessed a horrible, impossible sight: the moon, seemingly far away and above the conflict of the day, breaking apart almost in slow motion, and its various pieces falling directly on Unicorn Way. Before I could get up, Chrome dragged me into one of the more intact houses, and then rushed off when Marcas began shouting, leaving me free to stand up. There was an enormous crash as most of the fragments began… began hitting the ground… everything was fragmented again… where was Chrome? …Run to the crater (why can't I fly?)… Chrome's standing over Marcas, holding up a shield from the shards (was it… _cracking?_ )… The falling pieces… starting to break down the shield (have to get over there, NOW!)… It broke (but it's okay, I'm here now!)… Chrome's gonna get hit!

 **SHUNK** - _crick_ **.** Later, it'd strike me that that was a pretty weird sound given the context, but at the moment, I was only really aware that one of the smaller moon shards managed to drive itself into my thigh deep enough to break the bone. "Hrrrrrk… grrrrraaaahh…" I was well beyond words even before I got hit, but the fact that I managed not to scream or vomit was almost inspiring… not for me, obviously, because of the whole 'in excruciating pain' thing, but for someone I may tell this story to someday. Hell, I even managed to keep standing—

CRUNCH. You know, until a heftier slab got me below the ribs. _Then_ I went down. Thankfully, that seemed to be the last of it, so I made it through _that_ Diabolus Ex Machina with only a severely broken and hemorrhaging leg, internal bleeding and oddly cracked ribs, and what felt like a fractured skull. It was almost weird that I wasn't blacking out from the pain, and definitely weird that I hadn't from the blood loss (seriously, my leg was torn almost clean off; it was no exaggeration to say that I was literally dying at that point). But I was almost entirely removed from it. Not from the pain, unfortunately; that was still there in full force, in the form of unyielding tidal waves slamming into my shattered body. More like, the situation as a whole, like I had been through similar scenarios too many times to give anything resembling a damn about it now. Can't say it would be unlikely: fairy bodies are laughably flimsy, with hollow bones and slim frames and the like; given most Dark Fairies' propensity to fight, it wouldn't be out of left field for me to have been in a situation like this: bleeding out, broken to hell, and wide freaking awake, just waiting for it all to fade out.

Suddenly, a glowing pair of hands! A warm feeling washed over me, as I finally closed my eyes and just sort of coasted for a while, before a shout and a THUD snapped me out of it. To Chrome's credit, she didn't give the interruption an ounce of attention, only focusing her healing on my leg so I could sit up, which I immediately did, of course. Gulping back the massive amount of nausea, I watched as Will staggered to his feet, and followed his line of sight to see… _Oh crap, that's Nicholas._

I honestly wasn't sure what I was expecting, but a ten-foot-tall Draconian with nightmare plate and hideously huge, smoking gashes on his arms and legs definitely counted as an image I wanted to remain in only my worst nightmares. His strides took him closer and closer, until he was only about five yards away ( _tooclosetooclosetoocloseholyCRAPheissoclose_ ), at which point he collapsed to his knees, the previously unnoticed green glow about him blinking out. A brief burst of flame and a column of foul-smelling steam later, and an unconscious human Nicholas sat in front of us, as the sun peeked over the horizon.

* * *

 _A: And that's the end of that! Spring Hiatus, GO! (I'll be back in a few months, don't worry. In the meantime, check out my upcoming Pokémon story. It premiers next week, so don't miss it!)_


	13. Perspective

_IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII! LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE! Again! Sorry for the hiatus, everybody, but I had work to do, another story to write, and yet another story to get out of what is essentially development hell, where it had been for the past eight months. Honestly, I'm dying of overwork and inattention (and a poor diet, but that's another thing entirely), so enjoy this while I pass out._

* * *

Part One Arc Three: The Student

Chapter 11: Perspective

 _Unicorn Way, Dawn of the Second Day_

 _He remembered the first time they met: a young boy, only a few years older than him, had walked into their camp alone, completely at ease with the presence of armed guards within and hordes of beasts and mutated animals without. He seemed to gravitate toward seven-year-old him, perhaps catching sight of his white hair peeking under his cap, the same hair that, along with his red eyes, earned him nothing but scorn from the other children._

 _"Name's Eric," he said, his voice still unbroken and clear._

 _"Nicholas." His voice was raspy, not wishing to enter his family's wagon for water while his father was sleeping off the effects of his latest hit._

 _"So, Nick- can I call you Nick? -is there anything to do around here that doesn't involve sitting on your hands alone?"_

 _He was confused; his hands were very clearly on the table. Did the boy just have a blind spot? "But… I'm not sitting on my hands. See?" He waved them in Eric's view, causing him to laugh. Oddly enough, that was the start to a friendship that seemed strange when viewed from the outside: there would be long stretches of time where the two would silently sit back-to-back, only occasionally speaking, and even then only to exchange information on what they witnessed in that time; quiet debates about extremely odd subjects like the effectiveness of guns vs. swords, the best way to kill Stingwings (and whether there were ways to tame them) and other topics; extended periods of traveling together, bringing with them a change of clothes, a pair of knives, and clean water, for the lakes and rivers, pristine though they appeared, were heavily radioactive even hundreds of years after the War. However, he looked back on the three years they had together as the best time of his life. He finally had someone who understood him, who wouldn't mock the bruises and occasional tears on his face, and always took what he had to say seriously. Eric was the one person in that place who didn't make him feel like a freak, or a burden._

 _Of course, it all went wrong one night, during one of their hikes. The memory of the event escaped him no matter how hard he grasped at its fleeting specter, but one thing remained clear: when he woke up, quaking in pain and nausea, he was outside of a low metal building surrounded by a chain link fence, with Eric on top of him, his bear hug threatening to squeeze he life out of him, whispering, "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay," over and over again like a mantra. They went back after that, but the coming days were tense and uncomfortable, Eric being elusive and uncharacteristically somber, his deep blue, almost purple eyes never quite meeting his own. When he disappeared, it was as if someone had stabbed him in the chest and left the knife to rust. His sheer panic and misery that first day only elicited scorn from his father and mockery from the other children. Telling himself afterward that he would come back eventually, he waited patiently, bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders._

 _With some weeks passing with no word, he realized the hopelessness of waiting, and gave up, his resulting depression making him unresponsive to even the worst of the abuse. Two years passed, with him listlessly taking in the knowledge necessary to take up his father's mean mantle of head guard. Finally, the day came that he was to go on his first patrol with him. The two went alone, as bringing any more guards would jeopardize the camp's perimeter. The patrol itself was uneventful: rabid dogs and mongrels were shot, lone travelers were warned off, and several wild animals were killed for their meat. It was what happened_ afterward _that was important._

 _As they neared the camp, the sound of gunfire broke out: there was an attack! With a curse, his father unslung his rifle and raced off toward the action, with Nicholas standing still, mind blank. There was too much sound, too many flashes; he was overwhelmed by the screams of fear and pain and the harsh yells and the_ brakakakakakaka _of machine gun fire._

 _"Dammit, boy, move your ass! We've got Raiders!" His father's gruff bark jolted him out of it, and he rushed to follow. They made it to the campsite in short order, and at first, it seemed as if they arrived to the end of a nightmare: corpses of both sides' dead littered the ground, with only three guards left alive, but thankfully, only one of the enemy was left to face them. He was a darker man of about thirty, wearing aviator sunglasses, worn work boots, and what looked like a leather battle skirt. His thick, white hair was topped with a lieutenant's hat, and he wore a gauntlet that sported three wicked bone claws. Strangest of all was his demeanor: his guard was completely nonexistent, save for his arms being contemptuously crossed over his bare chest as he leaned against an overturned wagon, and he was currently saying in a dry tone to the guards in front of him, "I said it once, and I'll say it again: anyone who points a gun at me, dies. Every. Last. One." He waved his clawed hand lazily over the carnage. "Your friends didn't listen; do you wanna go the same way?" The man's words confused him for a moment. Your friends? Why "_ your _friends" specifically? Unless…_

 _It became crystal-clear to Nicholas in a moment, even as he looked down at the nearest bodies: they were their own guards, with a few civilian merchants thrown in the mix._ But, does that mean he came here alone? That he _did_ this alone!? _There was no more time to think, however, as his father had let out a war cry and charged, his rifle pointed directly at the raider. The other guards, roused by their leader's return, aimed their weapons as well. They never fired off a single shot._

 _With a mocking shrug, the raider_ blurred _, almost like a heat mirage, and with preternatural speed, pulled out a previously unnoticed sub-machine gun and sprayed the closest three with bullets, killing them instantly. He then stepped next to Nicholas' father with his claws refitted. With an almost casual swing, he tore off his arm at the elbow before driving them into his throat. Nicholas watched in numb horror as his father, the man who raised him, grasped pathetically at his murderer's wrist for a few moments before, with a final gurgle and a shudder, he let go and went limp. Tossing the fresh corpse aside, he turned to Nicholas, whose fear turned to rage at the sight of his father's body flopping to the dirt like a ragdoll. With a hoarse scream, he emptied the clip of his pistol directly at the man, who dodged all but two of the bullets, both of which hit him in the shoulder. With a roar of fury, the raider rushed forward, claw raised. His nerve failing him, he dived out the way of the raider's downward slash and raced into the forest. He didn't get far, though, as several bullets from the raider's gun speared into his back, each one detonating and very much obliterating a majority of his torso._

 _Laying there, bleeding in the dirt, everything was beginning to fade away… He was fading… He was nothing…_

 _He_ **woke.** Where was he? Why was he injured? How- wait. Others. Probable enemies. Possible captors. Strike first. Rise- "GRRRROOOOOOAARRR!" PAIN! Now back on knees? Too injured to move. Need to transform again. Need to become the Titan. Will be able to bear the pain. Deep breath. Gather the dregs of energy left in core-

"Nick, stop!"

The voice, so bizarrely familiar, jarred him out of his more… automatic machinations. Looking up, he saw Will's face, pale with worry and anger. With a wince, he recalled the events of the past seven hours: dropping the ball with Phil's sneak attack and losing his "eye"; transforming into his Assault Form unnecessarily against a weaker enemy (in a populated World, no less!); hitting a deranged Nicole _specifically_ to exacerbate the pain of her injury; fighting Will; using Will to destroy the World's moon; and he _supposed_ throwing Will into a wall before he was finally brought down by the wounds incurred by the falling shards of the aforementioned moon. He flashed his spear into existence automatically, using it to act as a support as he stood, able to bear the pain better. _A Sacrifice, or even better, a few Wisps,_ he thought absently, not noticing the automatic step back most all currently in attendance took upon seeing him rise. _All the blood's turning my clothes red; cleaning_ that's _gonna be a bitch._

A low growl alerted him to Will's growing anger, though for what he couldn't guess; was it because he was being ignored? _Well, tough,_ he thought. _I'm bleeding out, and you don't hear me complaining._ "Nick," the Sorcerer said flatly, causing him to focus on him again. Breathing deeply in an attempt to calm down, he said in a clipped tone, "Why." He didn't phrase it quite like a question, but Nicholas knew it would be foolish to treat it otherwise. Looking around, he took it all in, the yards upon yards of broken ceramic behind, and the pale, fearful faces before, one of them being…

He took a step forward, using his spear as a makeshift cane; everyone veered back in fear. "Marcas," he said, watching the named attendant flinch back in panic. "You're coming with me," he continued, ignoring the spike in Will's energy. "You specifically, mind. I don't care what he does," he finished, eye flicking to the Bunny, who nearly fell over. He took another step toward the Fir Darrig, only to be stopped by a gloved hand clamping around his shoulder and literally dragging him back. With an annoyed swipe, he knocked away Will's arm, nearly sending the younger Wizard crashing to the ground in the process. _Damn it, man, watch your strength._ However, he caught himself in time, and drew himself up to his full height (which, honestly, was barely even with the admittedly short Nicholas). "Stop ignoring me, damn it!"

The Necromancer had had enough of his pupil's exhausting line of reasoning. "I will, just as soon as you say something that actually makes sense."

"I asked you why did you do all of this!"

"And I answered well before now: because I wanted to."

 _"Why would you want to?!"_

"Look, I can go all day fielding your ridiculous questions but you've got company." And so he did: several energy signatures had just arrived on Unicorn Way, each one comparable to Will's; Ravenwood had finally sent a squad to investigate. "And about time, too; I was honestly worried I'd have to storm the Commons before they'd do something."

"You did all of this… to arrest Marcas?" That was Nicole, whose words he grasped onto like a lifeline: "Yes, surprisingly. His conquest had to be stopped, and Ravenwood's masters were sitting on their collective asses because they didn't want to admit that he existed, so I forced their hand myself. So, Marcas, it appears you have two options before you: turn yourself in to the investigative team, or fight your way to freedom. And I don't know about you," he said turning to the Fir Darrig, "but I'm not liking your… Marcas?" He was gone, to everyone's surprise; they had all been focusing on Nicholas. They looked around, but he—and Phil—had seemingly vanished, until the Red Man's voice came from above, " _Lá maith_ , jackass!" Looking up, the group saw the two would be conquerors floating roughly twenty feet above them, with Marcas pulling air currents to move them steadily farther away. Will immediately took several potshots at the retreating pair, but Marcas only veered a few feet to either side to avoid them. They ducked out of sight in short order, inciting groans from everyone but Nicholas, who only turned around and said, "Well, I'll leave you to explain that to the new guys."

"Nick, you are _not-_ -" But he had already teleported for home.

* * *

"Nick! _NICK!_ Damn it!" Will was incensed, and for good reason. He launched a bolt of energy at the nearest chunk of ceramic, blowing it to shrapnel. "I can't believe him! He didn't answer jack shit!" He cursed and raged for a few seconds more, before inexplicably calming down. "Look alive, everyone," he said, face like a mask, "they're here." Indeed, rounding the corner into view were four Wizards, only a few years older than he was. At the lead was an auburn-haired girl in yellow, whose green eyes popped out of her head when she caught sight of the Sorcerer. "Is that… it is! Will! WILL! It's me!"

Will's composure similarly dropped when he recognized the girl, his jaw dropping in shock. " _Madeline!?"_

* * *

 _Well, ain't that fun? Welp, we: 1) witnessed a glimpse into Nicholas' past for whatever reason, 2) saw the inner workings of a_ full _Wizard's mind, and 3) are finally advancing the plot! We should be out of Unicorn Way into Wizard City proper in another chapter or two. Just… don't quote me on that._

 _On another note, we have new Wizards. Aside from the just introduced Madeline, we have three blank slates, and you know what that means: Submit Your Own Character! Simply write a review providing several pertinent details about your Wiz, and I'll consider them for this mysterious trio. And, hey, if yours doesn't get picked, no worries. An SYOC will happen every once in a while for Begin Anew, so post one then, too!_

 _Remember kids, only KingsIsle makes money off of Wizard101. I personally thrive off of the attention of strangers, so Follow, Favorite, and Review, and, as always, thanks for reading._


	14. Story Time

Chapter Twelve: Story Time

We were all tense when the scouts came; I mean, how could we not? They would be representatives from _Ravenwood_ , the de facto center of the Spiral, and the first step in getting to Merle Ambrose. Of course, we needed to play our cards right; if I slipped up in the slightest, say anything not to their liking, then I'd be shut out of the conversation faster than I could say-

"Will! WILL! It's me!" Well, not that, but… wait, what?

Their leader was waving like a madwoman, as if Will was an old friend she hadn't seen in forever. Will seemed to recognize her, too.

" _Madeline?!_ " he said, before she tackle-hugged him to the ground. Almost immediately, she popped back up with Will in tow, enveloping him in a back-breaking hug. "It is so good to see you again!" she said, punctuating each word with a squeeze.

"Good, _nggg_ , to… see you too, Mad _hnng_ eline," Will choked out, tapping her arm in submission. Realizing that she was crushing him, the girl let go, letting him catch his breath.

I nudged Chrome to get her attention, whispering, "What do you think's going on here?"

She shrugged, seemingly impassive. "They obviously they know each other. More than that, we can only hope they get into here." We turned back to the newcomer, Madeline, just as she noticed us.

"Oh, hi you two!" she said with a wave. "Will, are they yours?"

"Well, no," he said, visibly relieved that some of the attention was off of him, though a bit embarrassed on our behalf at her choice of words. "The one on the left is Chrome-" she gave a little wave "-and that one's Nicole-" I nodded at her. "They were just helping me deal with something here. So, who're your friends?"

"Oh, right, I nearly forgot about them." She turned and called out to the three Wizards behind her, "Are you guys just gonna stand there, or are you going to introduce yourselves like you _weren't_ raised in a barn?" The three approached automatically, if awkwardly. The first, a green-eyed brunette of about thirteen in a lilac top hat, white and orange Marleybone dress, and brown Mary-Janes (weird choice for a storm trooper, but who am I to judge) said to Will, "Hello, I am Serafina AngelShield of Avalon. I am currently acting as Magus GoldForge's second-in-command." After her somewhat brief introduction, she shifted to the side, giving the next one the floor. She appeared to be shy, but she seemed nice enough; certainly more than I could say for the next guy: "My name's Keith Bandit, and I don't see why we have to go along with this ridiculous facade!"

He looked as much as an ass as he sounded: his dirty-blonde hair was in a ponytail held back by a blue-and-green bandanna, about the only thing that matched his sunglasses. He wore his sleeveless leather jacket over a red muscle shirt. Camo pants and steel-toed boots completed this ensemble, completely encapsulating…

" _Véritable_ Douchebag," Chrome supplied under her breath, getting a chuckle out of me. The Wizard, a Pyromancer by the feel of his energy, flashed us a sour look over his shades before turning back to Will with a sneer.

"Well, well, it looks like your owners are finally piping up," he continued, looking down at the much smaller Wizard dismissively. "Good thing for you, because you're gonna need all the help you can get when we drag your sorry carcass in front of the Heads. What with Unicorn Way in shambles, the moon destroyed, and evidence pointing to only you and a few native-born Monsters expending any real amount of mana, it's a safe bet that you're just another cut-and-dry case of a Sorcerer going loony and wrecking the place." In the background, a distant _boom_ rang, died out, and was summarily ignored by everyone present.

Will opened his mouth to defend himself, but the third Wizard, an albino girl in a black coat whose power I couldn't _quite_ identify said, "How about you calm down, Keith?"

"How about you shut up, freak!" he snapped, whirling to face his impassive comrade; beside me, Chrome winced, and she seemed to avoid meeting my gaze when I looked at her. "All you've done since you've got to Ravenwood was throw flyers for your ridiculous cult at everyone you met!"

The girl's expression barely changed, only displaying a slight frown. "I didn't expect someone as base as you to understand, so allow me to inform you that my Church is no mere _cult_ , as you erroneously labeled it."

"If you think what you have is a real religion, then you're nearly as cracked as the statue you throw yourself at, lady."

Her eye twitched slightly, as she replied, "I will refrain from stooping to your level, if only to spare myself the shame." She turned to Will and bowed slightly, only saying, "I am , on loan from Chrysalis to aid this advance team." _Wait, what?_ Call it what you will, hearing cutting out for a moment, my mind skipping a beat, but the end result was that I just didn't hear her name. I looked around, but didn't see any sign that anyone else had that problem. She continued, "You likely will not be blamed for this. The same cannot be said for the _other_ Wizard that was here."

Will paled slightly, but kept his expression neutral. "The… other Wizard? What do you mean?"

"Please don't make this investigation any more difficult than it needs to be, Mr.…"

"StarSpear, William StarSpear, and I think you might be misreading Nicole here, ma'am."

She leveled an _exceedingly_ dry look at him, as Keith snickered meanly and Madeline explained (while hiding a small grin), "Sorry Will, but senses are pretty refined; if HE says there was another Wizard, I gotta go with him on that." It happened again, as if the name was just cut out of reality entirely, at least for me. The "he" also threw me, though it probably shouldn't have at this point; Bishonen were quickly becoming half the people I knew.

If it threw Will, though, he didn't show it. "Well whoever it was, sir, I didn't notice them. What I _did_ notice, however, will probably shock you: I know what's behind the attacks on Wizard City."

A beat, and then: "And this is why we don't give these idiots time to talk; they'll always waste your time." Keith made to grab him, but Madeline stuck her hand out, catching him in the chest and stopping him. Even so, she gave him an odd look and said, "Will, you really should come with us now. We're not the ones you should be telling this to."

"What, you think I did this?" When she didn't answer, his face took on the same mask-like quality as before. "Well in that case, you don't have to bother bringing me in; I'm going to Ambrose myself." He began to push past them, only for Keith to grab his shoulder and push him back.

"What's the hurry? Why the rush?" the Pyromancer asked with an ugly sneer I was beginning to think was his default expression, but Will only met it with an unreadable gaze and said, "Get out of my way."

"What happens if I don't?"

 _Okay, I've had just about enough of this._ "Then I'll move you for him!" I said, flitting between them; Will not getting angry was fine by me, 'cause I was angry enough for the both of us!

Keith scowled when he realized who I was. "Out of the way, bug, I got a criminal to collar."

 _Bug? Did he just call me a_ _ **bug**_ _?_ Not wasting anymore time talking, I conjured a fireball in each hand. "I'm gonna burn some manners into you, prick."

He bared his teeth in a feral grin. "At least someone here has a spine." Flames began to lick up and down his arm. Orange eyes peeked over his shades as he said, "Too bad it won't do ya much good, _bug_."

"Keith, please calm down," the other girl, Serafina, said. "There's no point to this." We both snorted, and for good reason; if we didn't have a reason, then we wouldn't be fighting, now would we? Before either of us could start, though, everyone picked up a whistling noise coming from above. We looked up and to the west…

"What… _is_ that?" Serafina asked, with Chrome looking similarly confused. Everyone else present instantly recognized the still far off object's distinct design. Will was the one who answered: "MISSILE!"

And indeed it was: an honest-to-God cruise missile rocketing toward us. "Scatter!" I yelled, grabbing Chrome and flying to what I _really_ hoped was out of its blast radius. Behind me I heard Keith say, "To hell with this, I'm out!" As if in challenge, a pulse of... _something_ came in from the west, washing over everyone. The effects were instant, and terrifying: I fell to the ground, the magic keeping me aloft cutting off automatically and diving deep inside of me, present yet unreachable. From the shouts of shock and dismay behind me, I could tell that the Wizards had the same problem. The two of us got up, and I looked up at the rapidly approaching projectile. "It's getting closer!" I shouted at them. "Just run for cover!" They complied, running back toward the street entrance. Chrome tugged me along, getting me to run with her toward the Hedge Maze. We actually managed to clear the corner before the missile struck the area we were in with a massive _**DOOOOOOOOMMMMM!**_

XXX

 _Hedge Maze_

"And that's about it," Chrome said, finishing up her report to Lady Oriel, who stayed silent for a time. Finally, she looked at us and said, "I am pondering… the Fir Darrig.

"Certain laws beyond those of the material world bind my tongue on many subjects, but I am able to relate to you two the initial design of life, and how its myriad forms were meant to be bound:

"The first were Angels, formed of light and Fire, who were made with power enough to shake the world to its core, but, with only the greatest of us being the exception, lacked agency, true sapience.

"Next was Man, beings of matter and Earth, truly sapient beings. Of course, this agency was balanced, at least at first, by a lack of power.

"After were the Jinn, the Spirits and Elementals, born of ether and Air, who possessed both, making them immensely superior. Of course, they were originally bound to their own Worlds, and lived amongst themselves, to prevent abuse of that power over the other beings.

"The fourth were Demons, who lived in darkness and thrived in water, who, again with only a few exceptions, lacked either.

"It was in this way the four races lived for eons, until, due to the actions of a few, the balance was overthrown, and the many adapted until they rested on the balance we have now. Rattlebones' creations have the potential to upset the current way of the world at large, and I fear the state it will find itself in when the dust settles. So, I have a task for you: you both are to uncover which World each of the Fir Darrig inhabit-" She closed her eyes, feeling the weight of her decision "-and destroy them." She made a gesture, and a pair of Sprites flew into the maze.

Chrome was shocked at the revelation of her leader's quest. "Lady Oriel, if I may?!" she asked, almost in a panic. "If you believe that sending me away on a quest will be the best use of my abilities, then I will go without question. But don't you think killing them is a bit…" she fumbled for a word, "drastic?"

Oriel leveled somewhat of a glare at her, but Chrome, showing a surprising amount of spine, met her gaze unflinchingly until, with a dismayed sigh, Oriel closed her eyes and only answered, "No."

The Sprites returned holding a small chest between them. Snapping her fingers, the Seraph shattered the lock, allowing her to reach in and pull out a pair of ivory bracelets. Handing them to the two of us, she said, "These bracelets will allow each of you to keep track of the other's location." She met Chrome's piercing gaze again, only this time her eyes displayed her calm and understanding. "I have been alive for a very long time, young one. Long enough to see the First World be rent apart by its inhabitants and protectors, and to see the damage that has yet to heal from the Renegade's mad plot. Simply judging from plans, power, and skills Marcas has exhibited this past day, I can assume that the rest of the Fir Darrig follow a similar philosophy, if not quite the same strategy. If they are not stopped, they will conquer the Spiral, or, if they do not get their way, destroy it. They are simply too dangerous to be allowed to run rampant."

A heavy sigh, and "I understand, my Lady."

"Good… now please help Nicole put on her bracelet."

"What do you- for the love of…"

At that moment, I was doing the best I could to keep the thing from clamping down on my neck. "I don't even know how this happened! Just help me!"


	15. An Odd Journey

_Okay everybody, I'm back from hiatus! Without further ado, let's get back to the story-_

 _Rattles: You son of a bitch!_

 _Affable: Rattles! You're okay- oh god, ow! What the hell, man, you stabbed me!"_

 _R:_ You threw me into a dumpster behind the building, you ass!

 _A: Hey, in my defense, we're in a city; I can't exactly bury you in a nice grassy field, ya know- ow! Prick!._

 _R:_ How 'bout I bury _you_ in a dumpster after I deal with ya!

 _A: Hold on, my dude- Chapter start. Now, what was I- Aieeeeeeee!_

* * *

Chapter 13: An Odd Journey

"Okay, Verdant, until I come back from my quest, you're going to fill my place as Rook," Chrome told the Pixie, holding out a dull silver pin she pulled from her hair.

Her surprise was evident as she said, "Wait, me? But I'm not, um…"

"What, capable?" Chrome asked, eyebrow raised. "You're smart, you know where most things are around here; really, that's all you need for this job."

"But I'm not you!" she protested. "You're much smarter, and stronger, too! I'm just a downgrade compared to you."

"Not really," Chrome assured her with a shrug. "I'm smart, sure, but you're actually good with people. And what's this about strength? How strong you are has nothing to do with it; it's all about caring, and helping the fairies under your charge."

"But… what if they don't respect me?"

"You say that as if they respect _me_." The pair shared a giggle over that. "Well?" Chrome said, raising the pin once more. With a small gulp, Verdant accepted it, putting it in her hair so only the head stuck out from the top of her messy bun.

"I won't let you down, miss," the Pixie said with a nod, displaying only a little of her earlier nervousness.

"I know you won't."

* * *

We left the Maze after a round of goodbyes from the various Fae that called it home. Taking to the air but keeping low, we passed over the still smoking crater the missile left with some nervousness. "How did they even get a missile?" I asked thoughtfully, not really seeking an answer.

"I don't know, but the more troubling question is "how were they able to cut off our magic?"" Chrome replied, looking to the west as she flew. "They pulled off an anti-magic wave to cut off our escape routes, that much is clear, but anti-magic is such a rare and obtuse phenomenon that they could have up and killed themselves developing it; heck, that's what happens to most people who try to research it."

"What is anti-magic? Is it like antimatter" I asked, not really up to speed on advanced magickal laws and physics.

"Oh, you know what antimatter is?" she asked, a bit surprised for some reason.

"Well, yeah, it's, um… well, it's kinda hard to explain offhand… stuff that acts like the opposite of normal matter? It reacts violently when it comes into contact with matter, anyway."

"Basically. The technical explanation is that antimatter is made up of anti _particles_ , which are like regular particles except they have opposite charges: for every electron (negative energy) there's an "antielectron" (positive energy), and so on until you get up to antielements and the like. When antimatter and ordinary matter come into contact, they annihilate—as in, they convert to energy rather violently, like you said. Anti-magic is kinda the same: magic, being in the end energy, has an oppositely charged counterpart, fittingly named anti-magic. It exists in very small quantities all over the Spiral, and is very unstable, so it rarely has any opportunities to interact with regular magic, but when it does it does something odd: instead of annihilating like their material counterparts, they just plain cancel each other out, creating a sort of vacuum for a moment before it gets filled in by whatever's around." She began to dive toward the park, and I dipped in turn to keep up. "It doesn't help that they had to have collected a relatively huge amount to fire it like that, which is stupidly dangerous in populated worlds like this; most of them are saturated in magic, so if the anti-magic gets exposed from whatever you're sealing it in, they react and create a vacuum, which will probably make your container implode from the pressure displacement."

"Well that would suck," I quipped as we reached the ground and continued through the park at a float.

Chrome nodded. "Especially since anti-magic is such an exhausting thing to collect in the first place. There's no way to really detect or interact with it; it's almost completely inert, so you can't wield it like regular magic, and when you try to intake it when drained of regular magic, it doesn't power you at all, so you're stuck until it's drawn from you by a larger amount of anti-magic. The best you can do is go up to a source and try to catch it with a container manually."

"That seems… kind of ridiculous," I said, picturing Chrome in deep space, flailing about with a mason jar like she was catching invisible fireflies. I was shaken out of my thoughts by a nearby _baa_ from behind. Turning around, we saw the source: a brown Bighorn sheep, standing at about five foot even at the shoulder, whose back half was trapped under a large slab of rock, no doubt debris kicked up from the missile's explosion. Scrabbling for purchase to no effect, it closed its large, mournful hazel eyes wearily and let out another pained call.

"Do… do we help it?" Chrome asked, hesitant; knowing how violent injured animals in general could be, and seeing how its enormous horns could do a number on anyone, especially a fragile Fairy, I could see why. Even so, I just couldn't bear seeing it in pain like that, which was odd, since I never really pegged myself for an animal lover. Still, I've known myself for less than 24 hours, so what did I know?

I walked forward, grabbing its attention. "It's okay," I said quickly, hands out in front of me, "I'm a friend! I'm here to help you!" I kept my voice low, not wanting to startle it. Its scream of fear and rage, however, told me it didn't work. "No no no, it's okay!" I said as quickly and soothingly as I could, halting my approach for the time being. "Just let me help you; I can pick up the rock, no problem." The Bighorn turned a suspicious eye on me, obviously doubting my ability. "Trust me, you'll be out in no time, and my friend can heal you!" I gestured to Chrome, who waved nervously and, with a grunt of effort, bathed her free hand in a cheery green light. That, if nothing else, seemed to be to the Bighorn's liking, because it stopped straining to stand, instead choosing to watch my renewed approach warily.

Reaching it, I stretched out my hand to pat it reassuringly, only for it to snort and paw at the ground fiercely. Its meaning was clear: focus on the task on hand. I complied with a smile and a nod, grabbing hold of one end of the rock and getting airborne, its weight staggering me at first. Progress was slow, to say the least; I ascended as if I was pulling teeth, every inch hard won, the Bighorn's screams of pain eventually giving way to exhausted gasps and rasps. Chrome did what she could to soothe it, but out and out healing it was out of the question: its body was so broken under the slab, a healing would only fuse the parts into a twisted, useless mess. It was up to the both of us after the Bighorn was free to realign the body to at least the point where the healing magic could work from there. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I was clear of the Bighorn's body. While Chrome went to work realigning the spine, I flew away from the immediate area, finally setting the rock down some dozen feet away, before rushing over to aid her.

It was simple, in theory if not in practice: pulling broken, bunched up segments of bone away from each other, and realigning them as well as one could manage, in order to Heal the breaks as cleanly as possible. It was bloody, miserable work, made more difficult by trying to avoid causing the Bighorn any more pain than absolutely necessary. Pulling each jutting area back from the rest of the body, and forcing it back into alignment as close as we were able, was somehow both mind-numbingly tedious and impossibly tense.

Deciding we did the best we possibly could, Chrome sent me to fetch water from the nearby pond while she began Healing. Without an immediate way to actually carry water, I first searched until I found a bucket in a nearby gazebo. Filling it to the brim at the pond, I flew back over to the Bighorn to help it drink, and check its condition in the meantime. In short, not great, but getting better: its eyes, though glassy, were alert and looking into mine intently, if blearily. Its groans of pain were slowly giving way to a sigh of deep relief as Chrome's magic knit splintered bone and shredded flesh back together like new. As with everything else in the process, it was agonizingly slow work, as she had to be careful to allow the magic time to fit everything to where it should be. Eventually, though, it was done, and the Bighorn stood on its four hooves with practiced ease.

With a _baa_ of joy, it leapt clear over my head, landing a few yards away, and began to lope off, but stopped short and, turning around, made its way back to us. Stooping low, it regarded us intently for a moment. I saw us in the reflection of its eye: mussed and bedraggled, and covered in blood that was quickly drying in the cool Autumn air, we shook with exhaustion, completely drained. It nuzzled us briefly, and in the next moment was off again, making its way down the way we came, and was out of sight within moments. That strange but powerful episode over with, we washed up as best we could in the pond, and traveled to the gate to the Wizard City Commons on foot.

"Why were you surprised?" I asked, feeling a sudden desire to know. Chrome looked at me, confusion clear on her face. "When I said I knew about antimatter," I clarified. "Like what, you didn't think I'd know more than grade school science?"

"I didn't think you'd know any science at all," she admitted. "Most people don't; magic is far and away more useful when it comes to the day-to-day, and even when it is used, it's only really engineering. Very few people look at the more theoretical fields unless it's to advance magical study somehow. Antimatter has no real world application that anyone is aware of, so no one bothers with it. For you know about it at all must mean science is something you pursued before you lost your memories."

"Ah." That gave me something to think about. Why didn't I know that? The way Chrome said it, it was apparently plain as day, yet I didn't know at all. I knew things about the world already: my idioms were plain to everyone who heard them, magic (at least the basic mechanics) was well within my grasp, I knew what monst- what types of creatures the Fir Darrig were except the _actual_ Fir Darrig, how to talk, read, everything! But, it was clear my knowledge wasn't perfect, or possibly even complete. There were gaps that at that point I was far too tired to begin probing, so I dropped it for the time being. Without fanfare, we went through the gate to the Commons, and the rest of Wizard City proper.

* * *

 _Affable: Coolio, so we're done with Unicorn Way, for a long while at least. Rattles is cooled down and back in his room, I slapped on a bandage, and I wrote the entirety of this in about six hours or so, so it's clear that the muse is with me for now. I'll be writing for this until the end of November, so look alive peoples! I'll catch you later._


	16. Further, Further, Yet Further

Chapter 14: Further, Further, Yet Further

The next few hours were eventful, to say the least: upon reaching the Commons, our first stop was Headmaster Ambrose's house. However, we came to a slight bump in the road: the house was only open to the students and professors of Ravenwood, which was in turn only open to Wizards. The next course of action was clear to the both of us; I went ahead and enrolled myself. The process itself was pretty straight forward, the placement exam setting me up in the Fire School quickly enough, but then I was asked to make a Wizard name.

"Wazzat?" I asked the examiner, a bored teen with brown hair who felt like a Diviner, who sighed dourly.

"A Wizard name is a name that you choose to identify—no, to _define_ you," he said dramatically. "It is meant to represent the truest representation of your innermost self in the names and words contained within the Book of Secrets. At least, that's what you're _supposed_ to do." He scoffed. "Half the newbies from Ee-Arth or whatever go by Luke SkyWalker for some reason, and half of everyone else goes by Wolf. Just Wolf!" He threw his hands into the air as if giving up on the world, and sneezed as he kicked up some dust from the ancient tome between us. Composing himself, he coughed self-consciously and continued, "With a Wizard name, you will be able to initiate contact with other Wizards telepathically, so long as you know their Wizard name. You'll also be able to enter the Crown Shop by using it as your personal password."

"Crown Shop?"

"Basically a mall," he explained. "You spend Crowns, paper money, instead of gold. You can find unique items there you can't find anywhere else in the Spiral. But before I sound too much like a shill, how about that Wizard name? Just use the Book to assemble it."

I assumed figuring out a name would be the hard part, but no: the hard part was actually getting the damn thing working! The ink kept shifting into different lists of names: girl's, boy's, and several in entirely different languages. The examiner, after inspecting it for a second, slapped the shifting pages a few times like he was trying to knock an old fax machine back into working order. This somehow worked, however, the ink settling to the girl list like it was supposed to. "Sorry," the examiner said, "this happens a lot to nonhuman students who enroll. All the Book needs is a little attitude adjustment." Compared to all that nonsense, the name itself was easy to do: after a minute or two looking through the possible name combinations, I gravitated toward a pair of words I thought fit together perfectly with the name I already had. I wrote it out in full using a nearby quill: _Nicole SunBloom_.

"Ech." I looked at the examiner in surprise and some irritation, and he quickly held his hands up in peace. "Not bagging the name, honest," he said. "It's just that, you now share the name of a, just, godawful wine. Real poor quality stuff."

"How would you even know?" I asked. "You're like, what, sixteen? At best?"

"I'm seventeen, and why do you care- I mean, never you mind!" he said quickly. "Look, you've got your name, you're officially enrolled, your first class is in three days, so get everything on this list." He handed me a list of things I needed: a set of magic chalk, a crafting bench, parchment, quills and inkwells…

"Hold on, I have to go out and buy all of this myself?" I didn't quite mean for that to be a question, but he nodded in confirmation anyway. "You can't do this to me, man, I got no money!"

"Welcome to Ravenwood," he said with a shrug as he began packing up. "Well, I gotta head to class now, but hey, it's not all bad. Your wand, school robes, and spellbook are all provided free, plus if you're really hurting for cash you could do an errand or two for the Professors; they pay fairly well, and they aren't likely to get you to do something that'll get you killed. See you around, I guess." And that was that. My money troubles were a problem for another time, though, as we had work to do: talking to my new Headmaster.

However, we came across a new bridge to cross: according to the school Registrar, Headmaster Ambrose was off-world for the week; all the Heads of the top magic schools in the Spiral were working overtime to set up a tournament between their best students in time for Halloween. Until means to the world (I didn't catch the name) was made available to spectators, we were stuck. We were going to return to Unicorn Way to tell Lady Oriel, when ANOTHER problem reared its ugly head:

"What do you mean the gates are closed?!" I yelled at the red-faced guard. "We came through here _an hour ago_ ; what the hell could have happened in that time?!"

"Ma'am, I will gladly answer your questions as soon as you stop SCREAMING in my face! Please move aside!"

"Fine, how about instead, I just- ack!"

"Sorry about that, Private," Chrome said quickly as she dragged me back by the collar.

"Y'know, this is the last thing I need, having all these screaming idiots in my face day after day," the guard, Private Glass, lamented. "I already got guard duty, isn't that punishment enough?"

She nodded sympathetically, even as she sat me down on the curb. "I can certainly see your point. We'll be out of your hair soon enough, don't worry; my friend here is just on edge, and we _do_ live in Unicorn Way, after all. We just want to know what happened."

"Leapers is what happened," Glass replied sourly as he adjusted his helmet. "Damn things poured out of the sewers like rats. Swamped the whole area clear to the Park." He snorted, and muttered as an afterthought, "At least they scared off those dogs…"

"The hell are Leapers?" I asked.

"Big old rabbits, 'bout the size of a dog. Hit like Kraken and can jump for days."

"Wait, Dog?" Chrome asked. "Like a Marleybone Dog or-" She interrupted herself with a jaw-cracking yawn that lasted at least half a minute. Blinking owlishly, she shrugged at our stunned looks. "It's been a long 24 hours," she explained. "So, Marleybone?"

"Er, no, no, like a…" he set his arms apart, sizing an invisible Leaper, "…eh, I wanna say Labrador? Could be heavier, though."

"If rabbits are the problem, then the answer is simple," I said, standing up. "Just throw lettuce at them till they leave!"

"We tried that the last time they showed up, and all that happened was we ran outta lettuce!" he shot back. "All we can do now is hope the Headmaster comes back early for some reason."

"Why wait for all that time?" Chrome asked reasonably. "Why not ask one of the Professors in Ravenwood for help?"

Glass's snort echoed off the walls. "Think anyone there would listen to anything a lowly guard had to say without Ambrose twisting their arm? That's rich; Wizard City could be burning from Crab Alley to Olde Town, and you wouldn't see hide nor hair from Wizard City's Best until the old man started kickin' seats."

"Why not handle this yourselves?" I asked, trying to get a peek through the bars. "Rabbit-dogs shouldn't be to too much for a full patrol to handle."

"You kiddin'?" he said as he pushed me back with the shaft of his spear. "Those things got magic; me and the boys aren't goin' anywhere near 'em."

"What, none of you know magic?"

"If I knew magic, do ya really think I'd be a guard?"

I thought about it: for the most part, a member of the Wizard City guard could expect to encounter drunks, petty thieves, and gates… mostly gates. They _were_ guards after all. "Fair enough."

"Yeah, eight gold an hour's nowhere near enough to deal with that."

"Can't be that tough, though," I said, getting airborne and floating over the gate proper, ignoring Glass and Chrome's annoyed but placid calls to land:

"Hey, the gate's closed for a reason, ya know!"

"Nicole, listen to the guard!"

I cleared the gate, getting a peek at the dozen or so mounds of brown fur below me; they seemed to curl up when they slept. "Oh please, if they want a fight, they're gonna have to come up here, and I don't see that happening any time soon- OH SHIT!" Without warning, two of them flew at me as if shot from a cannon, one after another. I dodged them with room to spare, only for an unnoticed third one to slam into me and carry me with it as it continued its unchecked flight path across the Commons. We barreled through the air, getting along about as well as a giant kamikaze rabbit and its unwilling passenger could: I kept slamming meteors onto its head, while it kept trying to kick me. The kicks were bad news by themselves: being powerful enough to launch itself into the air like a goddamn rocket, the Leaper's hind legs were beating me like I had candy inside. And then I learned two things within a second of each other:

1) Leapers, this one at least, could set themselves on fire, and

2) I, contrary to whatever subconscious belief I had prior to this, was not fire-resistant.

XxXxX

"GAOW SHIT!" I shouted as I jerked "awake"; "awake" because, as it quickly became clear with a cursory glance at my surroundings, I was actually in my Mindscape. I got off my armchair and flitted to the bookshelf, where I pulled out a familiar book and opened it:

 **Sup wassup, Nicole, welcome back! I was just beginning to think you would have trouble finding a way back here, but here you are! All it takes is a bit of extreme trauma to get the juices flowing; who could've guessed? Well, never mind all that; time might be running slower as far as we're concerned, but you're still on a flaming Leaper that's about to crash into the library you-first, so let's get cracking on solutions or, if that doesn't pan out, looking through memories or something. HUT!**

I replaced the book without tearing it to piecessomehow. As it was, I didn't much like my position: as the Mindscape said, outside of my mind I was on fire, unconscious, and en route to scenic Death with jack diddly shit I could do to stop it. The best I could do was prepare myself mentally and head outside, where I'd have to fight through the pain of being both on fire _and_ mauled by a Leaper to fight free of said Leaper's grip (which I couldn't do even before all this) and stop my mad flight before I smashed into a building. Not fun. Seeing as I was in no real rush, I pulled out a blue book, which I remembered from last time had a memory inside, or at least part of one. Getting comfy on my armchair, I breathed deep, and opened the book.

XXX

 **The darkness that surrounds all Worlds big and small does not "surround", per se; that implies that the darkness is an object that can affect other objects in and of itself when in reality, it cannot, and indeed is not. True darkness is the Void, the absence of matter, light, etc., unable to affect objects in its scope purely because there is nothing to do the affecting. Objects can exist in the Void, of course; everything exists somewhere, even those hypothetical Somewheres. Events transpire as well, such as this one:**

" _Oh crap, where am I now?" I said, floating through some sort of darkness. It was nothing but sheer black occasionally dotted by far off lights, almost like stars. I wasn't sure if I wandered into some nutcase's magical trap, or if I somehow got transported to the Void between the worlds. Either way, wasn't good for me by anyone's measure. I slapped myself lightly, trying to get myself moving. "Come on, me!" I said to myself. "There's gotta be a way out of this! Just look around for a bit, there's gotta be something that can help you!" I was kidding myself, and I knew it: I couldn't even see my hand in front of my face! Still, I wasn't going to get anything done just sitting there, so I scouted out the biggest "star" and made my way to it, swimming as best I could through empty space._

 _Several hours of hard work later, I made it to the light. It wasn't a world like I hoped, or at least it wasn't a world I was familiar with. It was a foggy silver expanse that, somehow, exuded gravity, and also had a floor, seeing as how I was standing on it. I walked for a time, occasionally calling out, "HELLO? ANYONE? I'M IN YOUR, uh, WORLD! CAN YOU TELL ME WHERE I AM?!_ ANYBODY!? _" A prickling at the back of my neck made me whirl around, fire crackling in my hand, ready to be flung at… an oval?_

 _It was just that: a pale, flesh-colored oval, about the size of a human head, hanging suspended at around eye level. There were no other features on it, and no magic signature at all, but for all that, the vague sense of threat still persisted. Not wanting to turn my back on it, I walked backwards, only to discover that it didn't get any further away, and when I turned my head, it followed, as if it was superimposed over my field of vision. "Oooooh no. Oooooh crap oh shit oh sweet American Jegus why is this happening to me?" I moaned as I whipped my head around, trying to get rid of the oval._

 _Stop._

 _I jerked to a standstill as a 'voice' rolled across the ether._

 _Take The Knife. Give Me Form._

 _My right hand rose, completely out of my control, and pulled a Knife out of thin air. One look was all I needed to decide that the Knife was evil: the blade was a mottled brown, with knotted red inlay twisting around it like veins. Its hilt was made of a half-burned bone which was inscribed with runes, and the magic that surrounded it was acrid and foul. "To hell with this!" I shouted, but all my attempts to prize my hand free of the weapon failed utterly._

 _Give Me Eyes, So That I May See._

 _Running on autopilot, my Knife-wielding hand reached toward the oval, ignoring all my efforts to control it or hold it back. The knife met the oval in the place where an eye would be if it were a face, and, with a little unprompted pressure, punctured the skin and carved out a small crescent moon. Almost immediately, black fluid welled up in the cut like tears, and a stench wafted over me that was so foul I wanted to find relief in a mountain of rotting corpses. It only got worse when the Knife made another "eye" to match the first. I briefly wondered what the point of all this was, when the cuts opened, revealing constantly shifting, rolling red eyes, trembling and darting about as if terrified (or else high out of its mind). Some other features graced the oval now, also: ears poked out of a full head of snow white hair, and a small nose twitched occasionally._

 _Give Me A Mouth, So That I May Speak._

 _The Knife stretched out again, this time on the cheek. Before I could mount any sort of defense, it pulled swiftly across the face, making a grotesque parody of a smile. I moaned aloud; the smell was indescribable at this point, and the sight of the mouth opening, a fountain of black blood gushing out, to reveal a hideous array of metal fangs only twisted my stomach further into knots. The Face's eyes trained on me and, grinning widely, gave me a wink._

" _Give Me A Name, So That I May **Be**."_

 _The voice was the worst part: it was a dozen voices, all speaking at once, all different volumes, tones, speeds, and cadences that left me horrified and bewildered. Even as I tried to get myself back to base, alien visuals slammed into my head: crowds of people running away from an overhead threat; explosion after explosion rocking a formerly flying metropolis; a bear, screaming as it ran through a burning forest, panic powering it through the impossible agony of the flames devouring its fur and flesh. Endless images of despair and destruction, unyielding rage and a childlike wonder driving all of it. "W-what is this?!" I stammered, my gaze locked onto the Face's._

" _It Is All That I Am. It Is All That I Have Done. Name Me."_

 _Indeed, a name became clearer and clearer to me, even as the images crushed into my head faster than ever before:_

 _I almost said it out loud, if only to stop the blindingly painful assault, when it stopped of its own accord, fixating on a particular moment: it was a pale yellow planet, viewed from a collection of screens taking up one full wall of the craft I was standing in. Before I could make sense of it, the vision changed again, lingering this time around, allowing me time to experience the events in detail:_

 _xXxXx_

 _All he could do was roar in helpless rage as the crush of soldiers buried him, their unfocused but numerous hits dragging him to the steaming crater below. "No!_ NO! _"_

Is that really all you have?

 _Even as he hit the ground hard enough to create a second, smaller crater, he looked up to the sky in wonder and relief, though he couldn't see anything past his enemies' armored bodies._

M-master! _He cried out mentally, trying and failing to break free of the crush of soldiers, and only getting a flare of energy searing the side of his face_ _for the trouble_ _._ I… I can't beat them all! There are too many of them! Help!

You wanted the power now, before your "eternal foe" returned. This is what you need to do to attain it, _came the dismissive reply._ You thought my way was boring, and ineffective, so I decided to put you in something more your style. As I said before, each soldier's strength is roughly three fourths of your full power, but there are a hundred or so of them, so you'll want to pick them off quickly-

I CAN'T! _His cry was filled with an emotion that shocked his master into silence: fear._ They all flew off when I made my move, and they all rushed me at once when I got close. I'm buried under them, I can't see, I'M GOING TO DIE! _His control was rapidly slipping, and it showed, his attempts to free himself reduced to flailing wildly, trying to get_ _even one_ _limb free. A well placed punch to the gut by an opportunistic grunt stopped even those,_ _and he could only lay there, gasping hopelessly, as the soldiers beat him mercilessly. Blood was coughed up as_ _his ribs cracked, and he roared in pain when another beam of energy bored through his right bicep._ Please, master… _he called laboriously,_ I'm not… strong enough… save… me…

 _There was a pause, and then:_ You know I can't help you in this trial.

Master, please! _he cried._

If I intervene now, everything you have suffered so far will have been for nothing! _His master's voice was solid and unyielding, but its customary softness was still clear in his tone._ You _will_ survive this trial, my friend. The power has always been within you! The key to it is your rage, so don't despair, just get ANGRY! Think of all the constant slights Jasper gave you over the years! Think about when your tail was cut off! Think about all the times you were beaten, and your foe humiliated you beyond even that shame! Take all of those memories, and use them! Ascend to godhood! Take your place amongst your rivals and friends! Don't let your fear be your downfall!

 _He tried. Oh, the gods above and below knew he tried. But the pain, the dark, the shouts and grunts of the soldiers, the fetid stench of blood, his and theirs, were all taking their toll on him. His heartbeat slowed drastically, and his vision, obscured already, dimmed further. His limbs grew heavy, and his mind went fuzzy._ I… can't, _he finally managed to force out._ It's too much-

What are you, damn it, a coward!?

 _He opened his eyes, shocked._ M-master?

I can't believe I wasted my time on such a worthless pupil. Go ahead and die; after all, who would miss you? Your father is dead, and your companions would go much further without having to carry your dead weight. Your "rival", as you so placed him, probably won't even realize you're gone. Look at you, too afraid to even hear his name, about to die in a ditch. How fitting for trash like you.

 _He howled every foul oath and condemnation he could muster to the heavens, bucking against the ground and the soldiers with everything he had, which was growing with his misery and_ _desperation_ _._ _The words weren't what hurt him; after all, he said_ _as much_ _the same to himself many times before while training. No, it was the fact that his master cast_ _him aside so quickly, like he never cared about him at all. Sorrow turned to grief turned to anger turned to FURY, and, in a flash of molten gold, he stood, the soldiers, mere gnats in his eyes, being tossed aside. As one they ran to him, to Death, with anger in their eyes and glowing energy in their palms, titans of destruction to mortals, but less than nothing to him. He ROARED, the sheer force of it blast_ _ing_ _them back further than any bomb, many of them being rent to pieces with its intensity. He flew after the remnants of the fighting force, reaching a cluster of them before they had time to blink. He took his time with this group; in nearly a second, he drove his fist through the nearest of them and, with a neat snap and a somewhat messy_ squelch _, tore out the spine,_ _the force at which he did so sending_ _it_ _flying through_ _the eye_ _and into the brain_ _of the second_ _._

 _The last two finally realized he was there, and_ _tried to mount a defense: one skid behind him and grabbed his arms, pulling them back, giving the other leave to beat his exposed body._ _Sneer_ _ing, the soldier cocked a fist back, dropped a haymaker on_ _hi_ _s face, and screamed as the bones of his hand shattered against it. Breathing in,_ _he_ _took one look at the writhing soldier, and fired a deadly beam of energy from his mouth, incinerating the grunt instantly. The one behind him screamed in terror as he switched the grip and held onto him. With a booming cackle, he let loose the energy inside him as plasma, and built it up further and further until it resembled a massive_ _sphere_ _of golden flame, reaching a mile in_ _every direction, annihilating everything in its radius_ _. He extinguished it only when he felt the energies of all but one person disappear, burned away by his divine light. He shot toward the remaining power like a rocket, reaching a low cliff a hundred miles away almost instantly._

 _His arrival brought a rush of burning wind that set the scrubland ablaze, but his master- no, his_ _ **betrayer**_ _\- stood in front of him still, eyes wide as he took him in._ _He observed the strange being in front of him as well: his skin was a smooth periwinkle color, off-white chitin protecting his torso like a cuirass. Delicate fangs peeked out as he grinned wide, and the bangle on one of_ _the_ _short horn_ _s_ _jutting up and out the sides of his head_ _chime_ _d_ _happily as he stepped forward on_ _boot-like feet._

 _"I can't believe it worked," he said as he approached, tail twitching as it trailed behind him. "Look at you, your power! Not to put too fine a point on it, but I di_ _d right by you_ _, wouldn't you say,_ _little one_ _?"_

 _The pr_ _i_ _d_ _e_ _in_ _his master_ _'s voice_ _threw him, enough for him to cut off the still-raging storm of plasma his aura fed._ _"I…_ _what?"_

 _"I'm sorry I said what I said, but to awaken your power, your rage first had to peak. This method was harsh, but it got the job done. But still, what was a necessity was also a cruelty, and I apologize, truly. Are you willing to forgive?" he asked as he clapped his hands on his shoulders._

 _He stared deep into his master's acid green eyes, trying to discern any semblance of a lie, but seeing only joy, and a newfound respect. He shook his head, thoughts suddenly becoming foggy. "I… I do," he finally said, driving his thoughts down, leaving them for another time, albeit with a promise to review them later._

" _Good," came the relieved reply, "then we can leave this world, for good most likely." They began walking east, where a swirling pillar of iridescent light loomed, transposed starkly against the polluted brown sky. "To commemorate your success, I feel that a celebratory dinner is in order," he continued, not seeing him fall further and further behind._

What's… wrong with me? _He thought, coming to a stop. His vision was bleary, and his injuries, a minute earlier basically nonexistent, now seared with intense pain. He tried to take another step, but his strength, a moment ago so prodigious, failed completely, and he crumbled to the packed ground, the world turning gray._

 _The sound of dry grass being crunching underfoot, his head being lifted outside his volition, and his master's voice, panicked and far away, calling his name:_

 _xXxXx_

What? No! _The voice shouted as I snapped out of the vision._ How Did You- Stay Away From Those! _Even_ _though I was_ _still reeling from_ _the mental whiplash, I still had the presence of mind to marvel that its—_ his _—voice had changed: it was less discordant, having fewer voices, with more being more identifiably male, and all displaying varying levels of anger and horror_ _that fought for dominance on his face_ _._ _Before I could see if anything else was different, though, I was off again_ _,_ _the Face's howls fading away as the new vision formed:_

 _xXxXx_

 _She ducked under another swing, an irritated growl escaping unbidden_ _from her throat. Leaping forward, she grabbed at the weapon, an exquisitely beautiful crystal rod, only for her assaulter to dive away, making her overbalance. Regaining her footing, she blocked another blow, this time getting hold of the rod, pulling it and her attacker toward her._

(You Don't Understand! Get Out Of There! Get Out Of My Head!)

 _Securing a death grip on her throat, she said, "I will say this one last time, Blue." Ignoring her quickly intensifying migraine, she pulled the reluctant malcontent closer, their faces mere inches apart,_ _and continued,_ _"Stand down, tell me where your sisters are, and RETURN. TO. YOUR. POD._ IMMEDIATELY. _Do I make myself clear?"_

(No… Please! I, I Don't Want To-)

" _N…never!" Blue said, wrenching her way out of her grasp and jumped back, bare feet hitting the smooth crystalline floor with a soft_ pat. _"We refuse to remain under your control any longer!"_

 _She knew she could defeat her with relative ease using force. However, experience told her that beating down a potential renegade wouldn't kill the embers of rebellion in their heart, but instead drive said embers further down, igniting the flames in earnest at a later date. The embers would have to be dug out using a more tactful approach. Seeing as Blue was the youngest of her three wayward daughters, and thus the most susceptible to this sort of thing (indeed, that was probably why she was in this to begin with), it was far and away the most appealing plan._ _With a hefty sigh, she said in a honeyed tone,_ _"_ _Blue, your sisters are leading you astray. They're simply using you to get what they want;_ _they don't care about your well-being at all! Don't you see that?"_

 _Blue's answer to that was a mirthless laugh that tore at her heart. ""Care"? You say that as if you ever cared about us. You call us your daughters, but all we really are to you are dolls, puppets you make say or do what you want, when you want._ _Spare me your lies! You're going to leave this ship, and_ never _return, and that's if you're lucky!" Flash-forming another rod, she rushed her again,_ _readying a powerful strike. Reading her like a book, she only crossed her arms and waited for it, spinning behind her once she got close and elbowing her in the back of the head, sending her crashing to the floor. She didn't wait, grabbing her by the arms and hauling her up again despite her attempts to pull herself free._

" _Blue, if they are the ones with your best interests in mind, tell me this: where are they now?"_

" _Why would I tell you?" Blue sneered, but she only shrugged; there would be time for punishment when all was done and they were all together._

" _Never mind, I already know: the ship's control room, to get as far away from me as possible when you force me into the airlock and jettison me into the coldness of space. But if I may ask, why you? Why, of the three of you, send you specifically, the youngest and weakest, to face your progenitor?"_

" _They…_ _they knew I could handle you!"_ _she said,_ _but the growing note of unease of her voice gave the lie to her words._

" _No, they didn't," she_ _cooed_ _. "_ _They_ _know you will fall here;_ _t_ _hey simply_ _don't care. They want you to_ _hold me here long enough_ _for them_ _t_ _o open the air-lock, removing me, yes, but also you."_

" _My sisters would never do that!" she hissed, but she ceased struggling, slowly being calmed by the soothing cadence of her voice._

" _You_ _r sisters are doing this as we speak," she insisted, slackening her grip; she wouldn't run now, beguiled by the truth as she was. "_ _They see you as an acceptable loss,_ _a pawn to sacrifice to take the queen. You are expendable to them."_

" _I… you… y-you're wrong!" Blue rasped, eyes squeezed shut. "You're trying to trick me, turn me away from our goal! They would never do such a thing to their…"_

" _To their own sister?" she pounced on the pause. "Their comrade? They certainly have no trouble doing the same to their own mother! Open your eyes, Blue! Your sisters want me gone, and you're the price they're willing to pay to make that happen!"_

(No. No. No. No. _No. No. No. No._ )

" _I… I…" Blue's voice kept trailing off, and she made one last effort to pull away._

 _She deigned to pull her into her embrace instead, smoothing her hair as she cradled her. "It's all right, it's all right," she whispered, gently rocking left and right. "Let us leave this dire place for now, love."_

 _"…Okay." It was the utter defeat in Blue's voice, the alarming hollowness, that sent a jolt of pain through her, and she once again felt the need to protect her youngest from her elders' antics._

" _It is all right, my daughter," she reassured her. "Things were said, accusations were made, but in the end, there was no harm-"_

 **Crack.**

( _NO._ )

" _Ooh, but there was, wasn't it?" the voice behind her asked as she and Blue sank to their knees, both impaled by a translucent blade from behind. On autopilot, she pushed Blue off the blade, who flopped to the floor with an agonized cry. "Oh, get up, Blue," the blackguard giggled, "All I did was run you through; you won't even remember it come tomorrow. In contrast to HER-" it was here that a hefty kick launched her into the just opening airlock- "who won't remember anything ever again. Oops, almost forgot!"_

 _She had landed on her stomach, forcing the blade almost completely out, but it still jarred slightly as it was gripped on the other side and yanked out. A wet tinkling sound confirmed the worst: "My… Heart…"_

" _Broken, I'm sure," came the glib reply. "But really, it's for the best: we'll finally be free of you, and I'm sure you'll be alright wherever you end up."_

" _Mother!" Blue rasped, horrified._

 _A snort, loud enough to carry over even the now closing airlock doors. "Baby Blue, how about you find something useful to do; I've already had to take out YOUR garbage, so how about you go about clearing out her chambers so I can finally move in?"_

" _We can't do this!" Blue suddenly said, rushing to her prone form, but was grabbed round the neck and thrown back. Whatever remark was shot off was lost to her as the doors sealed themselves. The traitor spared one last look at her, an unreadable expression in her eyes, before slapping an out of sight button and sauntering off. Blue, however, pressed her face to the window, eyes wide, and mouthed her name, before the gates opened to the void:_

"NoNoNONONononONonONONOnononOnonoNOnonONOnonoNooOoO!"

 _I was ripped out, of the airlock,_

 _of the vision,_

of the memory, even as the Voice screamed louder and louder, shaking the walls and rattling the windows, before cutting out completely, leaving only a dead silence that stretched on until it said, _pleaded_ , in a small voice,

please… don't say it.

But even then, it was welling up within me, rising from the lungs and climbing up my throat like floodwaters; he may as well have asked me to hold up the sky. I said the name:

" **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-** "

The scream went on forever, letting out rage and loathing, sorrow and an unimaginable pain. Huge cracks and rends opened on the walls, showering me with plaster dust, and letting me know that I overstayed my welcome. I dived for the door, tearing it open and blasting through the blankness

XxXxX

until I woke up in earnest on the no-longer-flaming Leaper, which was still on a collision course with some building I didn't care about in the slightest. I wound up my arm, ignoring the crackling of my skin, and smashed into the creature with a satisfying _crunch_. The blow caused its trajectory to skew down and to the left, as much because of the actual force as because it controlled its own flight, at least somewhat.

I didn't give it a chance: flaring my wings out, I grabbed hold of its ears and flew up, the forces it was already moving under making something in one or both of us dislocate. When we were a hundred feet up, I changed tact, winging around and flying straight down, the Leaper's death screech echoing through the air as it was pulled along. With a yell of effort, I spun hard, swinging the Leaper downward like a mallet against the cobbles. Results, as I heard later, were predictably messy. I however wouldn't be able to see them for myself, as I hit the ground immediately afterward. The results of that: also predictable.


	17. Ravenwood School of Magical Arts

_Mother of goddamn Crease I am late. There are several reasons for this, but the two main ones are simply that work and job training is eating more of my time than anyone could have expected, and that the burnout from the two of those things are making me spend the rest of that time trying and failing to recover. Ultimately, my apathy, which was always a serious issue throughout my teen years, is now getting so all-enveloping that I honestly can't remember the last time I spent so much time putting this much work into this chapter (to note, the date of this upload is when I put the bulk of the ending scene). Also, I made the mistake of writing both parts one AND two simultaneously. The result was a complete disaster, and I'm loath to try splitting up my attention and energy like that again. Anyway, here's this chapter, and send your death threats via Review. Enjoy._

 _PS Rattles escaped. Expect him back in a few uploads (so, next December, probably)._

* * *

Chapter 15 Part 1: Ravenwood School of Magical Arts

 _October 27th, Commons, Wizard City, Daybreak_

"Nicole…"

"Mmmmlphlhl…"

"Nico-ooole…"

"Mrrrm…"

"Nicole, you need to get ready for school," Chrome coaxed.

I curled up, tightening my grip on my blanket, and grumbled, "Still sore…"

"I healed you twice, Nicole," was her matter-of-fact reply. "Plus, you had two days of rest and relaxation. Heck, now that I think about it, you're probably better off than I am."

"But why this friggin' early?" I moaned. "Sun's barely up… can't I get a few more minutes?"

"Okay, I'll give you five, but after that- OH, IT'S A BEAUTIFUL MORNING!"

"Gaaah!" I yelled as I was swung out of my hammock onto the floor. _Nothin' beautiful about it from where I'm sitting,_ I thought as I picked myself off the ground; I would've floated, but my wings (along with the rest of me) were pinned in the blanket I wrapped around myself. Freeing myself, I tossed the blanket on the hammock and made my way for the bathroom when out of nowhere, Chrome shrieked, "Nicole, what the hell!?"

I jumped and whirled around to face her, but she up and dived behind my hammock, her bun peeking up like a periscope. "What?" I asked it. "What'd I do now?"

"No, no, you didn't do anything, but… why are you naked?"

"Because I sleep naked. That a problem?"

"Just, I dunno, give me a warning next time, okay? I was NOT prepared for that."

"And who's fault is that?" I sniped as I stepped into the hall. "Don't throw me out of bed next time." I stopped in front of the bathroom and took in the apartment proper: the main body was the hallway, which had the openings to the kitchen, the den, and the one bedroom all running down one side, with the bathroom at the end. The walls were green with a gold trim running along near the top, and a small chandelier with tiny witchlights illuminated the entire space. I didn't have to go into the rooms to confirm the lack of furniture, save for basic amenities in the kitchen and the lone coffee table in the den; we had to hang up our own hammocks in the bedroom, along with a sheet between the two to separate our spaces.

Entering the bathroom, I scrubbed up as thoroughly as I was able, marveling at Chrome's determination: after my… _episode_ , Chrome wasn't able to heal me, using essentially all her mana on the Bighorn, so she put me in the care of Private Glass while she flew for a doctor. What she found was one Ethan Jadetalon, a Theurgist who by all accounts ("all" in this case meaning "Chrome's") was a cocky idiot who wanted payment up front for the simple work of healing. She instead opted to drag him by the hair to our location and (hopefully figuratively) twisting his arm until he did the job… kinda… my burns were healed, at least. The real problem was that I was still out of it. Ethan's, uh, "professional" opinion was that I was mentally exhausted and needed sleep… so Chrome rented an apartment. Turns out whatever I thought I knew about housing and leases and the like was completely wrong: she talked to the dealer in the shopping district, signed a form detailing the terms, and got the keys in five minutes flat.

A knock on the door made me jump. "I left your robes in the hall," Chrome's voice called from the other side. I dried off and exited, picking up my robes to inspect them once more: simple cotton dyed apple red with a black trim, there wasn't much to them beyond the fact that they were something to wear. I had a vague idea that some clothes could make you stronger, or else act like armor, but I didn't have any specifics. That was something I could probably ask one of the supposedly unhelpful professors Glass was talking about. I tossed the robe on carelessly, and looked around for my shoes, finding the new pair that came with the robe, cherry red boots with black bootstraps. I pulled them on, making plans to ask Chrome where my ordinary clothes were being kept. It wasn't a priority, though; there was no way I could wear them to school, torn half to hell and dissolved by blood and ichor as they were, and I had a feeling I was running late, anyway. I made for the door, and had just turned the knob when Chrome said, "Hold on a moment! Before you go, do you have everything? Spellbook, wand, etcetera?"

I opened my bag and looked through it: Book of Shadows, Scepter of Ignition, quills, inkwell (still stoppered, thankfully)… "Yep, everything: book, wand, school crap-"

"Hat? Lunch? Keys?"

"What, the hat?" I touched my hair automatically: still damp from the bath, it fell straight down, tickling my neck as I ruffled it. "I'm not bothering with that, actually, but more importantly, do you think I have time to pin my hair up?"

"The hat's part of the uniform, and no," she said, tossing it over like a Frisbee. "Just make a ponytail on the way over."

"I don't have a scrunch-"

"'Put one in your pocket while you were washing."

"Ah."

"So, lunch?"

"Chrome, I gotta get to school, remember? Besides, it's, like, dawn."

She held up a paper bag. "No, as in _your_ lunch. You waffle."

"…Oh." I caught the thrown bag and looked inside: house keys. "Oh, VERY funny." She tossed a wrapped sandwich at me with a giggle. "Don't wait up, I'll be looking around for jobs to run after school."

"All right, good luck to you."

"Later."

* * *

I looked at the building I just exited, a squat one story house sandwiched between a half-dozen others on the street. However, like many things in the Spiral, it was more than met the eye. That one building apparently housed over a dozen separate tenants, all divided and protected by the same magicks that gave my bag its ridiculous storage capacity, and all accessed individually by a corresponding key. Regardless, I shrugged at the ingenuity and took to the air, making my way for the great tree rooted in the middle of the World.

I tried to keep focused on the upcoming class, but my thoughts always veered back to my latest excursion in the Mindscape. I wasn't sure what happened there, but at least three things were clear. One, there was a terrifying, nightmare being in the Spiral, one _I_ brought in before I lost my memories. Two, I somehow gained access to its own memories through a gap in its mental walls, giving me its true name. The memories seemed off, however, actively altered instead of distorted like I first thought. Three, the memories themselves weren't accessed back then, as in, they weren't part of my own memories. Rather, I felt that my memories were the channel that the Face's memories flowed through to reach me. Which meant that the Face would even now be angry, livid even, that I knew the name. There was nothing stopping it, or him, from tearing me limb from limb except the fact that he didn't know where I was.

 _Really wish I could talk to Chrome about all this_ , I surprised myself thinking. It made sense, though: she really was reliable, not to mention smart. There were still some things about the memories that I couldn't sort out, and talking them out with someone might put things into perspective. There was no way I could tell her about it, though. This was nothing short of a disaster, and it was all my fault; I couldn't really go about telling people I unleashed the ultimate evil upon the land, now could I?

Dipping low enough so I could slap a weather vane into a crazy spin, I cleared the inner wall encircling Ravenwood just as the sun began to rise in earnest. Making my landing in the gated area around the dozing Bartleby's roots, I walked the rest of the way to the School of Fire, weaving around other early arrivals traveling in threes and fours and squeaking past the boy who just opened the door.

I took a good look around: I was in the back of a long room with school desks facing the front, where, separated from the rest of the room by a row of cauldrons, a low stage held a lectern, a wall-mounted blackboard, and a pair of clawed braziers on either end. There were a few people already seated, mostly younger looking kids of about thirteen, or even younger in one or two cases. In front of me was a large book on a pedestal. Looking closer, it seemed to be a seating chart for newly arrived students, and judging by it, I was seated in the front row. Making my way to the front, I couldn't help but notice that a few stares were being directed my way. _What, is it so weird for me to be here?_ Regardless, there was no point dwelling on it; I managed to avoid opening my Book of Shadows the whole three days prior despite Chrome's nagging, but now I needed to cram to avoid looking like a _complete_ failure; it was a form of pride, but whether it was born of being a Fae or an idiot was anyone's guess.

I took my seat and pulled out the book. A student, the same boy who opened the door, sat down next to me. A pasty, tubby adolescent with broken and badly repaired glasses and a noticeable overbite, he nevertheless had a definite aura of smugness that was really hard to tolerate. He leaned over to me and whispered conspiratorially, "Didn't do the required readings either, I see."

I turned to him with a formidable glare. "Just you, pal. I'm reviewing." With that, I buried my face in the tome, wondering why I wasn't absorbing any of what I was reading, but at least assured that that was the end of the interruption.

"Uh-huh, yeah." Apparently not. "It's really clear from here. I mean, you even figured out a _revolutionary_ study method: reading it upside down."

"Huh?" I looked at it again: sure enough, upside-down. _Shit, do I even know how to read?_ I genuinely couldn't remember doing so in the past few days. Righting the Book, I checked again:

 _The DexterGram® Pacer Test is a multistage stamina capacity test that gradually gets more difficult as it progresses. The 5 shot pacer test will begin in 30 seconds. Line up at the red line. The recovery period starts off lenient, but gets shorter each minute after you hear the gong. A single, 5 shot volley should be completed each time you hear the gong. Remember to hit the target as accurately and as quickly as possible. The second time you fail to land all your shots before the sound, your test is over. The test will begin on the word start. On your mark, get ready, rubber baby buggy bumpers._

Yep, I could read. Also, dafuq was that last thing? "Ah…"

"Well, even if you didn't," the guy continued, "I wouldn't worry. Professor Falmea is really hands on, but she only really focuses on the day's lesson, which is great when you already know what you're doing, but good luck if you're already struggling; you're going to need it."

"How would you know?" I snapped irritably. "Actually, don't answer that. Just, I don't know, stop."

"In answer to your question-"

"I don't want it."

"-I've been attending Ravenwood School for about a month now," he continued regardless. "You can call me Sandler."

" _Sigh_ … Sandler what?"

"Just Sandler," he confirmed, his odd pride in the choice apparent. "Didn't much care for the, uh, "true" names that old guy's book gave out, so I just skipped that step."

"Don't you need a Wizard name to talk to other Wizards telepathically?" I asked despite myself, remembering Jaime the Diviner's quick explanation on the subject.

Totally worth it, though: Sandler blinked a few times, at a complete loss for words. "…You can do that?" he finally asked.

"Ye. Also, I heard that you need it to teleport." I actually had no idea if that was true; I really only said it to screw with him.

"That's what you need!?" He exclaimed, only to be hushed down by a nearby student. "I just thought they had an item I missed out on," he continued in his indoor voice (which was still a mite too loud for my ears, but it was a nonissue).

"Well, you could always get a name after class," I reasoned. "A Diviner named Jaime's holding the book while the Headmaster's setting up the tournament."

"Aw, man, the DekaStar Tournament," Sandler hummed to himself, completely switching gears. "I'm so gonna take home the gold in that."

"You? Really?" I asked, in earnest mind you; Sandler had been so sporadic and prideful this entire time that I had a hard time discerning if he was actually joking or not.

"Yes, _really_ ," he said in a way that was _probably_ meant to be lofty and arrogant, but instead came across as rather petulant. "I've done my research, maximized my deck's potential, and, uh… did some other third thing, whatever. So I'm entering the tournament."

I couldn't help but check out his aura, if only to see _how_ outmatched he'd be in this tournament. In the past few days, I learned that many of the entries were Adept Wizards, with a few Magi thrown in the mix, so I used Will Starspear as a baseline, since he was an Adept, as well as a Sorcerer like Sandler. Even considering Sandler wasn't pushing his power to the fullest like he would in an actual Duel, what I got… wasn't promising. The exact opposite, in fact: he was hovering about MY level, of all things. All his talk of research and decks was blinding him to the fact that he was WOEFULLY underpowered for something like this. Not to mention that whatever cards and strategies he developed would be rendered moot by his opponents simply having better spells and, as followed, better strategies. _Oh, you poor, sweet summer child_. I thought, feeling an odd surge of sympathy for the blustering rookie. What I said out loud was, "So you said you did your research. I assume it was on your potential opponents?"

"Uh, _duh_ ," was his reply. "No one I can't handle, though, especially that retard, Keith." His expression soured even as he said it, the name having the same effect as a bite of rotten fruit.

"You mean Keith Bandit?" I asked. "Big guy, bandana, Pyromancer?"

"The one and only."

We both jumped in our seats at his voice, and whirled around to see Keith himself, leaning back on his his chair with his feet propped up on the back of Sandler's. He flashed a peace sign at me, his trademark sneer hitched n his face as usual. "Don't get too close, bug: it's been five minutes since Fluff's eaten AT LEAST."

"Shut up, Keith!" Sandler hissed, red-faced, as several students in the now almost full classroom snickered quietly. I heard whispered comments along the lines of "He should be proud: he's not covering his food in gravy anymore," "That Dark Fairy's so dead when she turns her back," and "Wonder what the owner's gonna say when he gives them back the wings." From what I heard, I could infer that Sandler was not well liked by the School of Fire, and probably quite a few other Schools as well.

"The offer stands, Bucky," Keith shrugged. "One-on-one Duel, and if your loss _isn't_ an utter embarrassment, I might consider you above my brand of reproach. As is, you're worth less the bug in my book, and she actually comes with a price tag!"

I had to speak much louder than normal to be heard over the resulting laughter: "Oh, good job, Keith, belittling someone at least four years younger than you. Hey, if all this bullying makes him cry, could you do us all a favor and **not** show us the boner it gives you?"

It only lasted for a second, but the silence was so complete I half-thought I went deaf. The peal of laughter that rose up from the class just about made that a reality, though. Keith opened his mouth to give me a no doubt stunning retort, but a voice from the front of the class stopped him and every other student, dead: "I must ask that you all settle down now."

I righted myself in my set to see: _Oh,_ _I'm gay_ _now_ _. Huh._

That bit of thought vomit didn't pop out of nowhere: A skin-tight, vermilion dress with gold and carmine accents that flared out at the hemline to resemble dancing flames as she sauntered over to her desk was the first thing that caught my attention, with her flame-like hair and deep ruby eyes the same shade as her lips following shortly after. She continued, "After all, it's time to begin our lesson." The deep _GONG_ of a giant iron bell sounded out immediately, as if bending to some undetectable, irresistible magic in her warm, yet imperious voice. Her lips quirked up in a small smile as she said, "And it seems we have a few new students today. To you all: there's no need to be alarmed if you feel unready for the material. Simply ask for assistance, and I will give all of myself to you."

I was already sitting straight up, attention rapt. _This is gonna be a good day._

* * *

 _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND that's it for now. Some info: Sandler the Sorcerer has a weird origin: Dawn Somewhere, a YouTube channel I frequent once I got past all the Pony stuff (and indeed got me into SOME pony stuff (but not the show itself, oddly enough)) has a series called Personal Time with Greg, a sort of vlog series where Greg, the effective face of the channel, talks about things like roleplays, science, dating, basically anything and everything he can think of. A mini-series within that was Children of the Sandler, a tale he tells of a campaign he did when he was a teenager with a group of friends, including a one_ Sandler _,the GM, who by all accounts was an insecure, arrogant blowhard who was awful, petty, and condescending the entirety of the campaign. I really wanted to have a character like that in this story: a big talking, infuriating Jerkass who, due to his ultimate ineptitude and arrogance, would never amount to much and would constant get crapped on by everyone who hated him, which was damn near everybody. Either way, none of this matters at all, as you're probably disgusted with me for that last paragraph. Well, there's a perfectly good explanation for why that was included... by!_

 _Also, 15 Part 2's coming out next week._


	18. An Overtaxed God Afflicts You

_And this is fifteen part two! No part three unfortunately, I've been stuck here WAY too long already. Enjoy! Also, recommended music choice is Roundabout by Yes._

* * *

Chapter 15 Part 2: An Overtaxed God Afflicts You

Chrome watched Nicole leave with much less trepidation than those who knew her would expect. It made sense for her, though: Nicole was capable enough in normal situations, so if everything went well, she'd be fine. It was when everything went to hell when the Dark Fairy's reasoning went to the same place. It happened in Unicorn Way, and she just _knew_ it happened back in the Commons as well. She was certain that Nicole knew it, too, but she claimed to have forgotten the episode. But Chrome knew what she saw; Nicole put all everything she had into that one move, and it showed: there was basically no Leaper left in the landing point proper, and the force of the impact reduced the cobblestone to sticky gravel. Nicole herself was burned all over, and at first seemed entirely too broken to be alive. But to Chrome's eternal surprise and relief, Nicole opened her eyes as soon as Chrome came close and said in an oddly lucid manner, "I swear I didn't bounce once when I hit the ground. Also, dying again."

"R…right, right," she had said, but then had to deal with the troubling reality that she was out of mana. After a frantic flight to the most Life magic-oriented signature near, she had to deal with a cheeky imbecile she just had no patience for at that point. She actually flew him back to Nicole's location in a rather large arch, which took more effort, energy, and time, but also provided her the time she needed to vent to the panicking Journeyman. High above they buildings they flew, with Chrome laying out in minute detail the events of the past twenty or so hours. It got to be that when they finally landed, he literally began kissing the ground in relief.

 _At least he knew how to heal,_ Chrome thought to herself. _Physical damage, anyway._ Drained as she was, there was nothing she could do about the sleep Nicole had slipped into except find a place for the two of them to rest. That led her to the office of Myrella Windspar, who rented out both one-stories and lofts in the Commons. A few minutes of explanation led to a deal: though protocol called for a security deposit upon reaching a deal, Myrella, considering her new client's urgent situation, decided to forgo that, in exchange for the rent being due on the first of the month. With all said and done, Chrome agreed readily, though even three days later, and now only five days away from the deadline, she still had no real plan to pay the 500 gold rent. Of course she and Nicole discussed it, and while supposedly the Professors had use of eager starving students, there was no telling how much they would pay for the errand, or indeed if they would choose her for the job at all. All things considered, it was rightly up to her to make up the difference. _The how will be tricky, though._

It wasn't as though she was unskilled; she could safely call herself the best healer she knew, and she could was able use offensive magic to some extent. Beyond that… however smart she might have been, not much of that would lend to her being employed: a restaurant wouldn't pan out because she couldn't cook (and would also get Fairy dust everywhere, which was a known health hazard); considering recent events, she was now quite sure that she ABHORRED fighting, so any security job was out; advanced mathematics was always a pain to do off the top of her head, so any position in a magical research hub was doomed to failure, and there was no way she could get a shop opened in the time allotted to her. Her only real option was retail, and she was famously bad with people. Still, all she could do at this point was grin and bear it, and hoped they payed on a day-to-day basis.

"Er… hello?"

She jumped three feet into the air with a yelp, her bun brushing against the ceiling; during off moments (quite unlike this one!) she often marveled how unused she was to a real living space that was to scale with her. She whipped her head around, trying to locate the source of the call.

"Hello? …I do hope this is the right place; I hate to have intruded on someone unduly."

The voice seemed to be both contrite and located in the bedroom, so Chrome bit the bullet and opened the door to reveal…

"Is that… is that a snake?" Indeed it was, and a rather massive one at that, its slowly undulating body easily clearing fifteen feet. It was quite unlike most snakes she knew of: it didn't have a hood like typical Snakes, but its head was proportional to its body and lacked a neck ruff, unlike a Serpent. It was a dull black color with a gray-green underbelly, and had a row of small, worn down spikes running down its back.

"Ah, hello," the snake said in a polite, decidedly _un_ sibilant voice, wrapping itself into a loose coil. "Hmm…"

"Yes?" Chrome said tersely.

"Terribly sorry, madame, but I fear I must ask: does a Nicholas Iceflame live here?"

 _Nicholas?_ She didn't know anything about the Necromancer beyond what little Will told her, so she had no idea what the snake wanted with him. Of course, given her first impression of him as a borderline psychotic battle freak, she really didn't care what the issue was. "No, only Fairies live here. And I fear _I_ must ask: who are you, and how did you get in my home?"

The snake's foggy green eyes flicked down as if embarrassed, before snapping back to meet hers again. "Yes, I should explain: I am Jasper, the king of Armageddon. I'm here on behalf of my son, Malus. Supposedly, he has some grievance with the aforementioned Iceflame, so I've come to see his side of the story, or rather, the story; Malus himself refuses to tell me what happened. Still, he seemed genuinely distressed, which is why I'm here. Alas, it seems it was all for naught. My apologies."

"Malus…" She had to think for a second before she remembered: "White hair? From… Chrysalis? Part of the advanced team that went to Unicorn Way a few days ago?"

"That sounds about right."

"How could he have known Nicholas, then?" she asked. "He was gone by the time they showed up, and he didn't even know his name when he asked after him."

"I… wouldn't know," Jasper admitted. "I'm fairly certain he didn't know anyone beside Merle Ambrose and the others in the advanced team up until that day, and he seemed perfectly norm- _fine_ until yesterday… are you _sure_ Iceflame doesn't live here, or at least visit often?"

" **No** ," she said with a hefty dose of finality that made Jasper rear back momentarily. "Why do you keep asking that?"

"Energy," was the snake's answer.

"…"

"…"

"…Energy." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, you see, the snake you're currently looking at isn't me, but rather a light projection that I made to form only when a specific energy trail is present in appreciable amounts. At present, that distinction belongs to Iceflame."

 _That_ gave her a nasty jolt. _What?!_ "Then…" The only possible explanation was… "He was…"

"Here? Almost definitely, sorry to say, unless he was inclined to expend a fair amount of energy in your general vicinity. Say, all of it."

She grasped onto that explanation like a lifeline. "Yes! Yes, he did that; he even shattered the moon for the hell of it; that was why the advanced team was sent out in the first place."

"Hmm, a real Moon Destroyer, eh?" Jasper said with a bob of his head, eyes half-closed with something suspiciously like mirth before snapping into attention. "Right, so this seems to be well and truly a bust… much like the others. Sorry again." Without fanfare, he faded away, only to reappear immediately afterward, much to Chrome's eternal vexation. "But you are one hundred percent sure Iceflame-"

"Fucking yes!"

"All right, I'm out!" And with that, he faded away, thankfully for good.

XxXxX

 _Bazaar, Olde Town, Morning_

"Mielőtt befejeztünk fel, lenne, ha kérdezik tőlünk néhány kérdést?" Elik Silverfist, the owner of the enigmatic caravan, was a man of little Common, but his daughter and assistant, Hanna, knew enough of both that and their own language to act as interpreter.

"So, before we finish the interview," the entirely too peppy teenage girl said, "do you want to question us?"

 _You mean, other than about the pay?,_ Chrome thought privately. Out loud she only asked, "So I noticed on my way over here that there was a spot in the Shopping District called "Elik's Edge". Is that where you used to be stationed, and if so, why did you move?" She figured that was an innocent enough question.

She figured wrong: Elik's face turned beet red as he growled, "Azok rohadékok a _Shopping District_ , nyomja ki engem az én telephelye! Faszfejek! Mind félt tőlem, hogy egy élő, a fiai kurvák! Amikor látom ezek közül bármelyik próbálnak cserélni itt óváros, megyek húr őket!" His Fist went right through the thin wooden table between them, and he stormed off, still swearing foul oaths in his native language. Chrome called out to the quickly following Hanna, "Wait wait wait! What happened?! Did I do something- what did I say?!"

"No no, it was not you," the girl reassured her. "It's just that… my papa set his cart there years ago, when I was a little girl. It was a good place, but then the shopkeepers there told the city that he had to go, since he was bad for their business. And so the city made him go. Even now, he gets very upset when he is remembered of it." The tinkling of broken glass alerted them to Elik's ongoing rage. "I need to go!" Hanna said as she slipped out of the room. "Hold on a moment- Papa, calm down!" _Smash!_ "Not the wardrobe!" She popped her head back in. "You want to come back later- eh?"

By this point, obviously, Chrome had long since fled.

XxXxX

 _Wand Shop, Morning_

"Seems like ya got a good head on yer shoulders," Sven Stonebreaker growled, his one eye fixated on her like a hawk's. "But I don't know if ya got the stomach for this line o' work…"

"Pardon?" She had no clue what the Wand shopkeeper was talking about. "Like… wand maintenance? Is there some sort of hazard involved, like, say, leakage of a sort?"

"Radiation's always a concern, but nothin' too problematic on that front, so long as yer consistent," Sven waved away. "I meant the _other_ aspect of the job."

"Which is…?"

"I'll ask ya plainly: have ya ever killed a man?"

"Wat?"

"This line o' work is dangerous, lass, so unless you know how ta handle the more vicious types, ya could soon end up mere dust on the ground. Are ya prepared to plunge a blade into the gut of an attacker, to see them gasp and groan as they try to pull away from ya, only too late, and see the light leave their eyes, leaving only a pretty slab of meat in front of ya where a livin', breathin' person full of dreams and wishes used to stand- hey, where ya goin'?"

XXX

 _Rockhammer's Jewel Works, Morning_

"Sorry, I only talk to Wizards. Also, you smell like pee."

"I… I know…"

XxXxX

 _Robe Shop, Noon_

"So what makes you think you'll be a good addition to the Wizard City Robe Shop," a tired looking Victor Darkwood intoned dully.

"I will do literally any job as long as you pay by the day," she said automatically.

"You're hired."

* * *

 _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAnd that's all for now, folks! Merry Christmas to all, and to all a "I'm going back to Pokémon for a few months." See ya in the spring!_


End file.
